o you? I'm in earnest about it. I never asked any girl to
marry me till now. I should think that ought to prove it. You can't say
that I don't know what married life means."

"Other people's married life," observed Sir Adam, grimly. "You know
something about that, I'm afraid."

"What difference does it make?" asked Brook. "I can't marry the daughter
of my father's divorced wife."

"I never heard of a case, simply because such cases don't arise often.
But there's no earthly reason why you shouldn't. There is no
relationship whatever between you. There's no mention of it in the table
of kindred and affinity, I know, simply because it isn't kindred or
affinity in any way. The world may make its observations. But you may do
much more surprising things than marry the daughter of your father's
divorced wife when you are to have forty thousand pounds a year, Brook.
I've found it out in my time. You'll find it out in yours. And it isn't
as though there were the least thing about it that wasn't all fair and
square and straight and honourable and legal--and everything else,
including the clergy. I supposed that the Archbishop of Canterbury
wouldn't have married me the second time, because the Church isn't
supposed to approve of divorces. But I was married in church all right,
by a very good man. And Church disapproval can't possibly extend to the
second generation, you know. Oh no! So far as its being possible goes,
there's nothing to prevent your marrying her."

"Except Mrs. Crosby," said Brook. "You'll prove that she doesn't exist
either, if you go on. But all that doesn't put things straight. It's a
horrible situation, no matter how you look at it. What would my mother
say if she knew? You haven't told her about the Bowrings, have you?"

"No," answered Sir Adam, thoughtfully. "I haven't told her anything. Of
course she knows the story, but--I'm not sure. Do you think I'm bound to
tell her that--who Mrs. Bowring is? Do you think it's anything like not
fair to her, just to leave her in ignorance of it? If you think so, I'll
tell her at once. That is, I should have to ask Mrs. Bowring first, of
course."

"Of course," assented Brook. "You can't do that, unless we go away.
Besides, as things are now, what's the use?"

"She'll have to know, if you are engaged to the daughter."

"I'm not engaged to Miss Bowring," said Brook, disconsolately. "She
won't look at me. What an infernal mess I've made of my life!"

"Don't be an as