ot for you, my child. I know your
temperament too well! You've the Davenant love of beauty and the
instinct to surround yourself with all that's worth having, and I hate to
think of its being thwarted just for lack of money. After all, money is
only of value for what it can procure--what it does for you. Well, being
a Davenant, you want a lot of the things that money can procure--things
which wouldn't mean anything at all to many people. They wouldn't even
notice whether they were there or not. So six hundred a year it will be,
my dear. On the same understanding as before--that you renounce the
income should you marry."

Nan gripped his hand hard.

"Uncle," she began. "I can't thank you--"

"Don't, my dear. I merely want to give you a little freedom. You mayn't
have it always. You won't if you marry"--with a twinkle. "Now, may I
have my usual cup of coffee--_not_ from the hands of your Hebe!"

She nodded and slipped out of the room to make the coffee, while Penelope
turned towards the visitor with an expression of dismay on her face.

"Do forgive me, Lord St. John," she said. "But is it wise? Aren't you
taking from her all incentive to work?"

"I don't believe in pot-boiling," he replied promptly. "The best work of
a talent like Nan's is not the work that's done to buy the dinner."

He lit another cigarette before he spoke again. Then he went on rather
wistfully:

"I may be wrong, Penelope. But remember, my wife was a Davenant, nearer
than Nan by one generation to Angele de Varincourt. And she was never
happy! Though I loved her, I couldn't make her happy."

"I should have thought you would have made her happy if any man could,"
said Penelope gently.

"My dear, it's given to very few men to make a woman of temperament
happy. And Nan is so like my dear, dead Annabel that, if for no other
reason, I should always wish to give her what happiness I can." He
paused, then went on thoughtfully: "Unfortunately money won't buy
happiness. I can't do very much for her--only give her what money can
buy. But even the harmony of material environment means a great deal to
Nan--the difference between a pert, indifferent maid and a civil and
experienced one; flowers in your rooms; a taxi instead of a scramble for
a motor-'bus. Just small things in such a big thing as life, but they
make an enormous difference."

"You of all men surely understand a temperamental woman!" exclaimed
Penelope, surprised at