"I've always suspected that Cecil was a fool--now I'm sure of it. Read
it!" he repeated, in a note of command that went oddly with his next
sentence; "You will find that it is only ridiculous."

This assurance of the comedy it contained, however, did not serve to
fortify her misgivings. It was written from a club.

"DEAR HUGH: Herewith a few letters for the magnum opus which I have
extracted from Aunt Agatha, Judge Gaines, and others, and to send
you my humble congratulations. By George, my boy, you have dashed
off with a prize, and no mistake. I've never made any secret, you
know, of my admiration for Honora--I hope I may call her so now.
And I just thought I'd tell you you could count on me for a friend
at court. Not that I'm any use now, old boy. I'll have to be frank
with you--I always was. Discreet silence, and all that sort of
thing: as much as my head is worth to open my mouth. But I had an
idea it would be an act of friendship to let you know how things
stand. Let time and works speak, and Cecil will give the thing
a push at the proper moment. I understand from one of the
intellectual journals I read that you have gone in for simple life
and scientific farming. A deuced canny move. And for the love of
heaven, old man, keep it up for a while, anyhow. I know it's
difficult, but keep it up. I speak as a friend.

"They received your letters all right, announcing your marriage.
You always enjoyed a row--I wish you could have been on hand to see
and hear this one. It was no place for a man of peace, and I spent
two nights at the club. I've never made any secret, you know, of
the fact that I think the Pendleton connection hide-bound. And you