re."

"If I had ever thought that you had expended a sovereign except for the
object of furthering some plot of your own, I should have been grateful.
As it is I do not know that we owe very much to each other." Then he
left the room, and, getting into a cab, went away to Lincoln's Inn.

Harry Annesley received Mr. Scarborough's letter down at Buston, and was
much surprised by it. He had not spent the winter hitherto very
pleasantly. His uncle he had never seen, though he had heard from day
to day sundry stories of his wooing. He had soon given up his hunting,
feeling himself ashamed, in his present nameless position, to ride
Joshua Thoroughbung's horses. He had taken to hard reading, but the hard
reading had failed, and he had been given up to the miseries of his
position. The hard reading had been continued for a fortnight or three
weeks, during which he had, at any rate, respected himself, but in an
evil hour he had allowed it to escape from him, and now was again
miserable. Then the invitation from Tretton had been received. "I have
got a letter; 'tis from Mr. Scarborough of Tretton."

"What does Mr. Scarborough say?"

"He wants me to go down there."

"Do you know Mr. Scarborough? I believe you have altogether quarrelled
with his son?"

"Oh yes; I have quarrelled with Augustus, and have had an encounter with
Mountjoy not on the most friendly terms. But the father and Mountjoy
seem to be reconciled. You can see his letter. I, at any rate, shall go
there." To this Mr. Annesley senior had no objection to make.

CHAPTER XL.

VISITORS AT TRETTON.

It so happened that the three visitors who had been asked to Tretton all
agreed to go on the same day. There was, indeed, no reason why Harry
should delay his visit, and much why the other two should expedite
theirs. Mr. Grey knew that the thing, if done at all, should be done at
once; and Mountjoy, as he had agreed to accept his father's offer, could
not put himself too quickly under the shelter of his father's roof. "You
can have twenty pounds," Mr. Grey had said when the subject of the money
was mooted. "Will that suffice?" Mountjoy had said that it would suffice
amply, and then, returning to his brother's rooms, had waited there with
what patience he possessed till he sallied forth to The Continental to
get the best dinner which that restaurant could afford him. He was
beginning to feel that his life was very sad in London, and to look
forward to the glad