never had to. His family own a section of the state, where they've had
woollen mills for a hundred years, more or less. I believe Hugh Chiltern
has sold 'em, or they've gone into a trust, or something, but the estate
is still there, at Grenoble--one of the most beautiful places I've ever
seen. The General--this man's father--was a violent, dictatorial man.
There is a story about his taking a battery at Gettysburg which is almost
incredible. But he went back to Grenoble after the war, and became the
typical public-spirited citizen; built up the mills which his own pioneer
grandfather had founded, and all that. He married an aunt of Mrs.
Grainger's,--one of those delicate, gentle women who never dare to call
their soul their own."

"And then?" prompted Honora, with interest.

"It's only fair to Hugh," Farwell continued, "to take his early years
into account. The General never understood him, and his mother died
before he went off to school. Men who were at Harvard with him say he has
a brilliant mind, but he spent most of his time across the Charles River
breaking things. It was, probably, the energy the General got rid of at
Gettysburg. What Hugh really needed was a war, and he had too much money.
He has a curious literary streak, I'm told, and wrote a rather remarkable
article--I've forgotten just where it appeared. He raced a yacht for a
while in a dare-devil, fiendish way, as one might expect; and used to go
off on cruises and not be heard of for months. At last he got engaged to
Sally Harrington--Mrs. Freddy Maitland."

Honora glanced across the table.

"Exactly," said Mr. Farwell. "That was seven or eight years ago. Nobody
ever knew the reason why she broke it--though it may have been pretty