"Oh," murmured Juliet, confused at her mistake. "I thought you were Mr.
Ince," she apologized; "I am so sorry."

"Not very flattering to poor Ince I'm afraid," said Lord Ashiel, smiling
at her. "He's ten years younger than I am, I'm sorry to say, and I would
change places with him very willingly. Now, if you had mistaken me for
Nicol, that undertaker clerk of Findlay's, who always looks as if he's
been burying his grandmother, I should have been decidedly hurt. What in
the world do you keep that fellow in the office for, Findlay? To frighten
away custom?"

Mr. Findlay laughed.

"He's a more useful person than you imagine," he said. "Though I must say
Ince agrees with you, and is always at me about the poor man. Some day I
hope you will both see his sterling qualities."

"I am afraid you must think I have given you a great deal of trouble for
very little reason," Lord Ashiel said to Juliet. "But perhaps there will
be more result than at present can seem clear to you. I may go so far as
to say that I hope so most sincerely. But, if the secret of which I spoke
just now is ever to be confided to you, it will be necessary for you and
me to know each other a little better. I have a proposal to make to you,
which I fear you may think our acquaintance rather too short and
unconventional to justify."

He paused with a trace of embarrassment, and Juliet wondered what could
be coming.

"It is not convenient for me to stay in London just now," he went on