isance, but
anything would be better than sending for the police to take away Mr.
Neefit. "Keep your eye on that man in the front room," said he, to
his Swiss valet.

"On Mr. Neefit, saar?"

"Yes; on Mr. Neefit. He wants me to marry his daughter, and I can't
oblige him. Let him have what he wants to eat and drink. Get rid of
him if you can, but don't send for the police. He's smashing all the
things, and you must save as many as you can." So saying, he hurried
down the stairs and out of the house. But what was he to do next?
If Mr. Neefit chose to carry out his threat by staying in the rooms,
Mr. Neefit must be allowed to have his own way. If he chose to amuse
himself by breaking the things, the things must be broken. If he got
very drunk, he might probably be taken home in a cab, and deposited
at the cottage at Hendon. But what should Ralph do at this moment?
He sauntered sadly down St. James's Street with his hands in his
trousers-pockets, and finding a crawling hansom at the palace-gate,
he got into it and ordered the man to drive him down to Fulham. He
had already made up his mind about "dear little Clary," and the thing
might as well be done at once. None of the girls were at home. Miss
Underwood and Miss Bonner had gone up to London to see Sir Thomas.
Miss Clarissa was spending the day with Mrs. Brownlow. "That will
just be right," said Ralph to himself, as he ordered the cabman to
drive him to the old lady's house on the Brompton Road.

Mrs. Brownlow had ever been a great admirer of the young Squire,
and did not admire him less now that he had come to his squireship.
She had always hoped that Clary would marry the real heir, and was
sounding his praises while Ralph was knocking at her door. "He is not
half so fine a fellow as his brother," said Clarissa.

"You did not use to think so," said Mrs. Brownlow. Then the door was
opened and Ralph was announced.

With his usual easy manner,--with that unabashed grace which Clarissa
used to think so charming,--he soon explained that he had been to
Fulham, and had had himself driven back to Bolsover House because
Clarissa was there. Clarissa, as she heard this, felt the blood
tingle in her cheeks. His manner now did not seem to her to be so
full of grace. Was it not all selfishness? Mrs. Brownlow purred
out her applause. It was not to be supposed that he came to see
an old woman;--but his coming to see a young woman, with adequate
intentions, was quite the proper th