ful consideration he would
do nothing that might injure Fleur. That resolution taken, his mind
answered the helm again, and he made his ablutions. His hands trembled
as he dried them. Scandal he would not have, but something must be
done to stop this sort of thing! He went into his wife's room and stood
looking around him. The idea of searching for anything which would
incriminate, and entitle him to hold a menace over her, did not even
come to him. There would be nothing--she was much too practical. The
idea of having her watched had been dismissed before it came--too well
he remembered his previous experience of that. No! He had nothing
but this torn-up letter from some anonymous ruffian, whose impudent
intrusion into his private life he so violently resented. It was
repugnant to him to make use of it, but he might have to. What a mercy
Fleur was not at home to-night! A tap on the door broke up his painful
cogitations.

"Mr. Michael Mont, sir, is in the drawing-room. Will you see him?"

"No," said Soames; "yes. I'll come down."

Anything that would take his mind off for a few minutes!

Michael Mont in flannels stood on the verandah smoking a cigarette. He
threw it away as Soames came up, and ran his hand through his hair.

Soames' feeling toward this young man was singular. He was no doubt
a rackety, irresponsible young fellow according to old standards, yet
somehow likeable, with his extraordinarily cheerful way of blurting out
his opinions.

"Come in," he said; "have you had tea?"

Mont came in.

"I thought Fleur would have been back, sir; but I'm glad she isn't. The
fact is, I--I'm fearfully gone on her; so fearfully gone that I thought
you'd better know. It's old-fashioned, of course, coming to fathers
first, but I thought you'd forgive that. I went to my own Dad, and he
says if I settle down he'll see me through. He rather cottons to the
idea, in fact. I told him about your Goya."

"Oh!" said Soames, inexpressibly dry. "He rather cottons?"

"Yes, sir; do you?"

Soames smiled faintly.

"You see," resumed Mont, twiddling his straw hat, while his hair, ears,
eyebrows, all seemed to stand up from excitement, "when you've been
through the War you can't help being in a hurry."

"To get married; and unmarried afterward," said Soames slowly.

"Not from Fleur, sir. Imagine, if you were me!"

Soames cleared his throat. That way of putting it was forcible enough.

"Fleur's too young," he said.

"Oh! no