ed of its being a fact."

Warburton declared his emphatic agreement.

"Seeing that," he added, "why are you in such a hurry? Your millionaire
grocer is but a steppingstone; who knows but you may soon chum with
dukes? If any man living ought to be cautious about his marriage, it's
you."

The artist examined his friend with a puzzled smile.

"I should like to know, Warburton, how much of this is satire, and how
much serious advice. Perhaps it's all satire--and rather savage?"

"No, no, I'm speaking quite frankly."

"But, look here, there's the awkward fact that I really have gone
rather far with the Crosses."

Will made a movement of all but angry impatience.

"Do you mean," he asked quickly, "that _she_ has committed herself in
any way?"

"No, that she certainly hasn't," was Franks, deliberate reply, in a
voice as honest as the smile which accompanied it.

"My advice then is--break decently off, and either do what I suggested,
or go and amuse yourself with millionaire Sir Luke, and extend your
opportunities."

Franks mused.

"You are serious about Rosamund?" he asked, after a glance at
Warburton's set face.

"Think it over," Will replied, in a rather hard voice. "I saw the thing
like that. Of course, it's no business of mine; I don't know why I
interfere; every man should settle these matters in his own way. But it
was a thought I had, and I've told it you. There's no harm done."

CHAPTER 33

When Warburton reached his lodging the next evening he found a letter
on his table. Again the fine feminine hand; it was the second time that
Rosamund had written to him. A vague annoyance mingled with his
curiosity as he tore the envelope. She began by telling him of a
drawing she had made in Camberwell Grove--not bad, it seemed to her,
but she wished for his opinion. Then, in a new paragraph:

"I have seen Norbert again. I call him Norbert, because I always think
of him by that name, and there's an affectation in writing 'Mr.
Franks.' I felt that, when we talked of him, and I really don't know
why I didn't simply call him Norbert then. I shall do so in future.
You, I am sure, have little respect for silly social conventions, and
you will understand me. Yes, I have seen him again, and I feel obliged
to tell you about it. It was really very amusing. You know, of course,
that all embarrassment was over between us. At Ashtead we met like the
best of friends. So, when Norbert wrote that he wanted to see me,