atures, and he would hasten to correct in
his broad, coarse brogue: "Sir Edward, me friend! Be the Grace of Her
Majesty and the British Government--Sir Edward--if--ye plaze!"

THERE was one who took pride in the use of his title.

He desired and exacted the full tribute due the dignity it carried.
Then why did not "Jerry" do the same?

She did not appreciate that to him the prefix having been handed down
from generations, was as natural to him as it was unnatural to the
aforementioned criminal lawyer. The one was born with it, consequently
it became second nature to him. The other had it conferred on him for
his zeal in procuring convictions of his own countrymen, and never
having in his most enthusiastic dreams believed such a condition would
come to pass--now that it was an accomplished fact, he naturally wanted
all to know and respect it.

They were two distinct breeds of men.

Peg had occasionally met the type of the honoured lawyer. They sprang
up as mushrooms over night during the pressure of the "Crimes Act," and
were liberally rewarded by the government--some were even transferred
to the English Bar. And they carried their blatant insistence even
across the channel.

But the man of breeding who exacted nothing; of culture, who pretended
not to have acquired it; of the real power and dignity of life, yet was
simplicity itself in his manner to others--that kind of man was new to
Peg.

She burned with shame as she thought of her leave-taking. What must Sir
Gerald think of her?

Even to the end she was just the little "Irish nothin'," as she had
justly, it seemed to her now, described herself to him. She had hurt
and offended him. In that one rude, foolish, unnecessary question, "Are
you goin' to propose too?" she had outraged common courtesy, and made
it impossible for him to say even a friendly "Good bye" to her. She did
not realise the full measure of the insult until afterwards. She had
practically insinuated that he was following the somewhat sordid
example of cousin Alaric and Montgomery Hawkes in proposing for her
hand because, in a few years, she would benefit by her uncle's will.
Such a suggestion was not only unworthy of her--it was an unforgivable
thing to say to him. He had always treated her with the greatest
courtesy and consideration, and because he did not flaunt his gentility
before her, she had taken unwarranted umbrage and had said something
that raised an impassable barrier between them