her than he had ever been, as he watched
her fanning herself and looking round at the furniture, while the echoes
of laughter and talk died away down the stone staircase without.

"Dear Michael," she said. "I wish I'd seen this room when you lived in
it properly."

He laughed.

"When I lived in it properly," he answered, "I should have been made so
shy by your visit that I think you'd have hated me and the room."

"You must have been so domestic," said his mother. "Such a curious thing
has happened."

"Apropos of what?" asked Michael, smiling.

"You know Dick Prescott left Stella all his money, well----"

"But, mother, I didn't know anything about it."

"It was rather vague. He left it first to some old lady whom he intended
to live four or five years, but she died this week, and so Stella
inherits it at once. About two thousand a year. It's all in land, and
will have to be managed. Huntingdonshire, or some country nobody
believes in. It's all very difficult. She must marry at once."

"But, mother, why because she is to be better off and own land in
Huntingdonshire, is she to marry at once?" asked Michael.

"To avoid fortune-hunters, odd foreign counts, and people."

"But she's not twenty-one yet," he objected.

"My dearest boy, I know, I know. That's why she must marry. Don't you
see, when she's of age, she'll be able to marry whom she likes, and you
know how headstrong Stella is."

"Mother," said Michael suddenly, "supposing she married Alan?"

"Delightful boy," she commented.

"You mean he's too young?"

"For the present, yes."

"But you wouldn't try to stop an engagement, would you?" he asked very
earnestly.

"My dearest Michael, if two young people I were fond of fell in love, I
should be the last person to try to interfere," Mrs. Fane promised.

"Well, don't say anything to Alan about Stella having more money. I
think he might be sensitive about it."

"Darling Stella!" she sighed. "So intoxicated with poverty--the notion
of it, I mean."

"Mother," said Michael suddenly and nervously, "you know, don't you,
that the day after to-morrow is the House ball--the Christ Church ball?"

"Where your father was?" she said gently, pondering the past.

He nodded.

"I'll show you his old rooms," Michael promised.

"Darling boy," she murmured, putting out her hand. He held it very
tightly for a moment.

Next day after the Trinity ball Alan, who was very cheerful, told
Michael he thought it would