d of him that sometimes he'd say things. But,"
hastily, "perhaps I'm talking too much."

"You happen to be talking about questions I have been greatly interested
in. I have thought a good deal at times of the position of the holders
of large estates they cannot afford to keep up. This special instance is
a case in point."

G. Selden felt himself in luck again. Reuben S., quite evidently, found
his subject worthy of undivided attention. Selden had not heartily liked
Lord Mount Dunstan, and lived in the atmosphere surrounding him, looking
about him with sharp young New York eyes, without learning a good deal.

He had seen the practical hardship of the situation, and laid it bare.

"What Mr. Penzance says is that he's like the men that built things
in the beginning--fought for them--fought Romans and Saxons and
Normans--perhaps the whole lot at different times. I used to like to
get Mr. Penzance to tell stories about the Mount Dunstans. They were
splendid. It must be pretty fine to look back about a thousand years and
know your folks have been something. All the same its pretty fierce to
have to stand alone at the end of it, not able to help yourself, because
some of your relations were crazy fools. I don't wonder he feels mad."

"Does he?" Mr. Vanderpoel inquired.

"He's straight," said G. Selden sympathetically. "He's all right. But
only money can help him, and he's got none, so he has to stand and stare
at things falling to pieces. And--well, I tell you, Mr. Vanderpoel, he
LOVES that place--he's crazy about it. And he's proud--I don't mean he's
got the swell-head, because he hasn't--but he's just proud. Now, for
instance, he hasn't any use for men like himself that marry just for
money. He's seen a lot of it, and it's made him sick. He's not that
kind."

He had been asked and had answered a good many questions before he went
away, but each had dropped into the talk so incidentally that he had
not recognised them as queries. He did not know that Lord Mount Dunstan
stood out a clearly defined figure in Mr. Vanderpoel's mind, a figure to
be reflected upon, and one not without its attraction.

"Miss Vanderpoel tells me," Mr. Vanderpoel said, when the interview was
drawing to a close, "that you are an agent for the Delkoff typewriter."

G. Selden flushed slightly.

"Yes, sir," he answered, "but I didn't----"

"I hear that three machines are in use on the Stornham estate, and that
they have proved satisfactory."