come the heir of the Minute millions enjoys?" he asked
ironically. "No, I'll save you the agony of guessing. I earn seven
pounds a week at the bank, and that is the whole of my income."

"But doesn't uncle--" she began in surprise.

"Not a bob," replied Frank vulgarly; "not half a bob."

"But--"

"I know what you're going to say; he treats you generously, I know. He
treats me justly. Between generosity and justice, give me generosity all
the time. I will tell you something else. He pays Jasper Cole a thousand
a year! It's very curious, isn't it?"

She leaned over and patted his arm.

"Poor boy," she said sympathetically, "that doesn't make it any
easier--Jasper, I mean."

Frank indulged in a little grimace, and said:

"By the way, I saw the mysterious Jasper this morning--coming out of the
Waterloo Station looking more mysterious than ever. What particular
business has he in the country?"

She shook her head and rose.

"I know as little about Jasper as you," she answered.

She turned and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Frank," she said, "I am rather worried about you and Jasper. I am
worried because your uncle does not seem to take the same view of Jasper
as you take. It is not a very heroic position for either of you, and it
is rather hateful for me."

Frank looked at her with a quizzical smile.

"Why hateful for you?"

She shook her head.

"I would like to tell you everything, but that would not be fair."

"To whom?" Frank asked quickly.

"To you, your uncle, or to Jasper."

He came nearer to her.

"Have you so warm a feeling for Jasper?" he asked.

"I have no warm feeling for anybody," she said candidly. "Oh, don't
look so glum, Frank! I suppose I am slow to develop, but you cannot
expect me to have any very decided views yet a while."

Frank smiled ruefully.

"That is my one big trouble, dear," he said quietly; "bigger than
anything else in the world."

She stood with her hand on the door, hesitating, a look of perplexity
upon her beautiful face. She was of the tall, slender type, a girl
slowly ripening into womanhood. She might have been described as cold
and a little repressive, but the truth was that she was as yet untouched
by the fires of passion, and for all her twenty-one years she was still
something of the healthy schoolgirl, with a schoolgirl's impatience of
sentiment.

"I am the last to spin a hard-luck yarn," Frank went on, "but I have not
had the best of everything, dear.