fter her mother's
death, and get it all. I only don't want you to think I'm mean, Brook."

"Then she married again--your first wife?" asked the young man, with
natural curiosity. "And she's alive still?"

"Yes," answered Sir Adam, thoughtfully. "She married again six years
after I did--rather late--and she had one daughter."

"What an odd idea!" exclaimed Brook. "To think that those two people are
somewhere about the world. A sort of stray half-sister of mine, the
girl would be--I mean--what would be the relationship, Governor, since
we are talking about it?"

"None whatever," answered the old man, in a tone so extraordinarily
sharp that Brook looked up in surprise. "Of course not! What relation
could she be? Another mother and another father--no relation at all."

"Do you mean to say that I could marry her?" asked Brook idly.

Sir Adam started a little.

"Why--yes--of course you could, as she wouldn't be related to you."

He suddenly rose, took up his glass, and gulped down what was left in
it. Then he went and stood before the open window.

"I say, Brook," he began, his back turned to his son.

"What?" asked Brook, poking his knife into his pipe to clean it.
"Anything wrong?"

"I can't stand this any longer. I've got to speak to somebody--and I
can't speak to your mother. You won't talk, boy, will you? You and I
have always been good friends."

"Of course! What's the matter with you, Governor? You can tell me."

"Oh--nothing--that is--Brook, I say, don't be startled. This Mrs.
Bowring is my divorced wife, you know."

"Good God!"

Sir Adam turned on his heels and met his son's look of horror and
astonishment. He had expected an exclamation of surprise, but Brook's
voice had fear in it, and he had started from his chair.

"Why do you say 'Good God'--like that?" asked the old man. "You're not
in love with the girl, are you?"

"I've just asked her to marry me."

The young man was ghastly pale, as he stood stock-still, staring at his
father. Sir Adam was the first to recover something of equanimity, but
the furrows in his face had suddenly grown deeper.

"Of course she has accepted you?" he asked.

"No--she knew about Mrs. Crosby." That seemed sufficient explanation of
Clare's refusal. "How awful!" exclaimed Brook hoarsely, his mind going
back to what seemed the main question just then. "How awful for you,
Governor!"

"Well--it's not pleasant," said Sir Adam, turning to the window again.
"So the