"Dear Mr. Parsons:

"Papa said I could marry who I wanted to provided that he was
decent, so please give your written consent to the _grand seigneur_
who brings this. His name is Arranstoun, and he is indigenous to
this Castle, and really an aristocrat who papa and mamma would have
approved of, although he unfortunately has no title----"

"I had to put in that, you see," and she looked up explainingly,
"because it sounds so ordinary if he'd never heard of Arranstoun--we
wouldn't have, only Uncle Mortimer was looking out for old ruins to
visit--well," and she continued her recital, while Michael lowered his
head to hide the smile in his eyes.

"We wish to get married on Thursday so please be quick about the
consent, as Uncle Mortimer wants me to marry his nephew, Samuel
Greenbank, who I hate. Agree, sir, the expression of my sentiments,
the most distinguished

"Sabine Delburg."

"P.S. I will want all my money, 50,000 dollars a year I believe it
is, on Friday morning."

Then she looked up with pride.

"Don't you think that will do?"

Michael was overcome--his voice shook with enchanted mirth.