ould get to like him and"--she
smiled audaciously--"I believe I could make him like me. He looks sad,
though, poor man! Though I suppose he's got everything!"

"A good many worries included, I think, Margaret."

"He spoke of Lord Lacey as if he was fond of him." The smile lingered on
her lips. I think that she was day-dreaming of how, if he were fond of
Lacey, he would be fond of what Lacey loved, and that so she might
soothe him over his worries and take the lines out of his painful brow.
"Anyhow I'm very glad I've met him."

I was glad of that, too--on the whole. The interview had gone as well as
could be expected. Margaret had won no such sudden and complete victory
as had attended the beginning of her acquaintance with Alison.
Fillingford was not the man to yield a triumph like that; he was far too
slow and wary in his feelings, too suspicious and afraid of efforts to
approach him; he had, besides, a personal grudge against Breysgate that
must needs go deeper than Alison's enforced but reluctant disapproval of
the mistress of that house. His words had not been encouraging--"on all
grounds utterly ridiculous!" Yet there had been kindness in his grave
tones when he told her that he was glad to have met a friend of his
son's. I wondered whether Jenny would be content with this somewhat
mixed result--and what she would say to the share I had taken in the
interview.

I got no chance of making my report to her till late at night, for
Cartmell came to dinner--to talk business--and the two were busy
discussing Oxley Lodge. Cartmell was still sore about the price,
especially sore about that five hundred pounds to satisfy a mysterious
whim for early possession. But Jenny was radiant over her new
acquisition, and full of merriment at the story of Aspenick's sulky
comments.

"Really I think they've every right to hate me--and I suppose they do.
But I can't stand still just because the Aspenicks have stood still for
six hundred years, can I? Anyhow I think he'll be quite safe about the
wire. His new neighbors will probably be hunting people themselves."

Cartmell pricked up his ears. "Hunting people, will they? Well, that's
good. I didn't know who----"

"No more do I yet--exactly," she laughed, obviously enjoying his baffled
curiosity, and casting a glance across at me for my sympathy in the
joke. "But I'll have people of a good class, Mr. Cartmell--no one to
offend his high nobility! No tradesman's son at Oxley! Breysga