him and gave a thick chuckle in his throat.

"Thank you," he said. "Very decent of you. And that point being
established, I will explain further, that I am not here of my own free
will. I am only an agent. No man in his senses would come to Farlingford
in mid-winter unless--" he broke off, with a sharp sigh, and glanced
down at Miriam's slipper resting on the fender, "unless he was much
younger than I am. I came because I was paid to do it. Came to make you
a proposition."

"To make me a proposition?" inquired Loo, as the identity of Turner's
hearers had become involved.

"Yes. And I should recommend you to give it your gravest consideration.
It is one of the most foolish propositions, from the proposer's point
of view, that I have ever had to make: I should blush to make it, if it
were any use blushing, but no one sees blushes on my cheeks now. Do not
decide in a hurry--sleep on it. I always sleep on a question."

He closed his eyes, and seemed about to compose himself to slumber then
and there.

"I am no longer young," he admitted, after a pause, "and therefore
propose to take one of the few alleviations allowed to advancing years
and an increasing avoirdupois. I am going to give you some advice. There
is only one thing worth having in this life, and that is happiness. Even
the possibility of it is worth all other possibilities put together. If
a man have a chance of grasping happiness--I mean a home and the wife
he wants.... and all that--he is wise to throw all other chances to the
wind. Such, for instance, as the chance of greatness, of fame or wealth,
of gratified vanity or satisfied ambition."

He had spoken slowly, and at last he ceased speaking, as if overcome
by a growing drowsiness. A queer silence followed this singular man's
words. Barebone had not resumed his seat. He was standing by the
mantelpiece, as he often did, being quick and eager when interested, and
not content to sit still and express himself calmly in words, but must
needs emphasise his meaning by gestures and a hundred quick movements of
the head.

"Go on," he said. "Let us have the proposition."

"And no more advice?"

Loo glanced at Miriam. He could see all three faces where he stood,
but only by the light of the fire. Miriam was nearest to the hearth. He
could see that her eyes were aglow--possibly with anger.

Barebone shrugged his shoulders.

"You are not an agent--you are an advocate," he said.

Turner raised his eyes wit