reement on the
delicate topic. Whelpdale felt obliged to interpose, and had of course
no choice but to support the girl.

'I can only say,' he remarked with a smile, 'that Miss Dora takes a very
noble point of view. One feels that a wife ought to be staunch. But
it's so very unsafe to discuss matters in which one cannot know all the
facts.'

'We know quite enough of the facts,' said Dora, with delightful
pertinacity.

'Indeed, perhaps we do,' assented her slave. Then, turning to her
brother, 'Well, once more I congratulate you. I shall talk of your
article incessantly, as soon as it appears. And I shall pester every one
of my acquaintances to buy Reardon's books--though it's no use to him,
poor fellow. Still, he would have died more contentedly if he could have
foreseen this. By-the-by, Biffen will be profoundly grateful to you, I'm
sure.'

'I'm doing what I can for him, too. Run your eye over these slips.'

Whelpdale exhausted himself in terms of satisfaction.

'You deserve to get on, my dear fellow. In a few years you will be the
Aristarchus of our literary world.'

When the visitor rose to depart, Jasper said he would walk a short
distance with him. As soon as they had left the house, the future
Aristarchus made a confidential communication.

'It may interest you to know that my sister Maud is shortly to be
married.'

'Indeed! May I ask to whom?'

'A man you don't know. His name is Dolomore--a fellow in society.'

'Rich, then, I hope?'

'Tolerably well-to-do. I dare say he has three or four thousand a year!'

'Gracious heavens! Why, that's magnificent.'

But Whelpdale did not look quite so much satisfaction as his words
expressed.

'Is it to be soon?' he inquired.

'At the end of the season. Make no difference to Dora and me, of
course.'

'Oh? Really? No difference at all? You will let me come and see
you--both--just in the old way, Milvain?'

'Why the deuce shouldn't you?'

'To be sure, to be sure. By Jove! I really don't know how I should get
on if I couldn't look in of an evening now and then. I have got so much
into the habit of it. And--I'm a lonely beggar, you know. I don't go
into society, and really--'

He broke off, and Jasper began to speak of other things.

When Milvain re-entered the house, Dora had gone to her own
sitting-room. It was not quite ten o'clock. Taking one set of the proofs
of his 'Reardon' article, he put it into a large envelope; then he
wrote a short letter, w