n the same
receptacle.

She withdrew the hand and changed colour slightly as she became
conscious that the corner of the envelope was protruding.

"I suppose that by this time," said Sir John pleasantly, "you are quite
an authority upon African matters?"

His manner was so extremely conversational and innocent that she did
not think it necessary to look for an inner meaning. She was relieved to
find that the two men, having actually met, spoke of each other frankly.
It was evident that Guy Oscard could be trusted to keep his promise, and
Jack Meredith was not the man to force or repose a confidence.

"He does not tell me much about Africa," she replied, determined to hold
her ground. She was engaged to be married to Jack Meredith, and whether
Sir John chose to ignore the fact or not she did not mean to admit that
the subject should be tabooed.

"No--I suppose he has plenty to tell you about himself and his
prospects?"

"Yes, he has. His prospects are not so hopeless as you think."

"My dear Miss Chyne," protested Sir John, "I know nothing about his
prospects beyond the fact that, when I am removed from this sphere of
activity, he will come into possession of my title, such as it is, and
my means, such as they are."

"Then you attach no importance to the work he is inaugurating in
Africa?"

"Not the least. I did not even know that he was endeavouring to work.
I only trust it is not manual labour--it is so injurious to the
finger-nails. I have no sympathy with a gentleman who imagines that
manual labour is compatible with his position, provided that he does
not put his hand to the plough in England. Is not there something in the
Scriptures about a man putting his hand to the plough and looking back?
If Jack undertakes any work of that description, I trust that he will
recognise the fact that he forfeits his position by doing so."

"It is not manual labour--I can assure you of that."

"I am glad to hear it. He probably sells printed cottons to the natives,
or exchanges wrought metal for ivory--an intellectual craft. But he
is gaining experience, and I suppose he thinks he is going to make a
fortune."

It happened that this was precisely the thought expressed by Jack
Meredith in the letter in Millicent's hand.

"He is sanguine," she admitted.

"Of course. Quite right. Pray do not discourage him--if you find time to
write. But between you and me, my dear Miss Chyne, fortunes are not made
in Africa. I am an