'm too--if you will allow me to clothe my thought in somewhat homely
language--too beastly poor."

"_You--poor?_" ejaculated Lady Blanchemain, falling back.

"Ay--but honest," asseverated John, to calm her fears.

She couldn't help smiling, though she resolutely frowned.

"Be serious," she enjoined him. "Doesn't your uncle make you a suitable
allowance?"

"I should deceive you," answered John, "if I said he made me an
_un_suitable one. He makes me, to put it in round numbers, exactly no
allowance whatsoever."

"The--old--curmudgeon!" cried Lady Blanchemain, astounded, and fiercely
scanning her words.

"No," returned John, soothingly, "he isn't a curmudgeon. But he's a
very peculiar man. He's a Spartan, and he lacks imagination. It has
simply never entered his head that I could _need_ an allowance. And, if
you come to that, I can't say that I positively do. I have a tiny
patrimony--threepence a week, or so--enough for my humble necessities,
though scarcely perhaps enough to support the state of a future peeress.
No, my uncle isn't a curmudgeon; he's a very fine old boy, of whom I'm
immensely proud, and though I've yet to see the colour of his money,
we're quite the best of friends. At any rate, you'll agree that it would
be the deuce to pay if I were to fall in love.

"Ffff," breathed Lady Blanchemain, fanning. "What did I say of an age of
prose and prudence? Yet you don't _look_ cold-blooded. What does money
matter? _Dominus providebit_. Go read Browning. What's 'the true end,
sole and single' that we're here for? Besides, have you never heard that
there are such things as marriageable heiresses in the world?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard that," John cheerfully assented. "But don't they
almost always squint or something? I've heard, too, that there are such
things as tufted fortune-hunters, but theirs is a career that requires a
special vocation, and I'm afraid I haven't got it."

"Then you're no true Marquis of Carabas," the lady took him smartly up.

"You've found me out--I'm only a _faux-marquis_," he laughed.

"Thrrr!" breathed Lady Blanchemain, and for a little while appeared lost
in thought. By-and-by she got up and went to the window, and stood
looking out. "I never saw a lovelier landscape," she said, musingly.
"With the grey hills, and the snow-peaks, and the brilliant sky, with
the golden light and the purple shadows, and the cypresses and olives,
with the river gleaming below there amongst the peach-blo