November, sir."

"I wish it were sooner. I do not approve of protracted engagements. But,
of course, you know your own business best. If I remember rightly, the
father of this young lady did not leave much of a fortune, did he?"

"Nothing to speak of, I believe."

"You have my best wishes. The match is very suitable, very suitable. I
wish you would say as much, with my compliments, to the young lady's
mother. I would do so myself, but, as you know, I am something of an
invalid. You might add that, too--and--er--I don't mean to advise you,
but I would endeavor to hasten the ceremony. In such matters, it is
usual for the young lady to be coy, but it is for the man to be pressing
and resolute. I only regret that her father could not know of it. In
regard to money, your allowance will have to be increased--well, I will
attend to that. There is nothing else, is there? Oh, do me the favor not
to omit to say that I am much pleased. I knew Miss Raritan's father."
Mr. Varick looked up at the ceiling, and put his hand to his mouth. It
was difficult to say whether he was concealing a smile or a yawn. "He
would be pleased, I know." And with that Mr. Varick resumed his former
position, and took up again the magazine.

"It is very good of you," Tristrem began; "I didn't know, of course--you
see, I knew that if you saw the young lady--but what am I calling her a
young lady for?" he asked, in an aside, of himself--"Miss Raritan, I
mean," he continued aloud, "you would think me fortunate as a king's
cousin." He paused. "I am sure," he reflected, "I don't know what I am
talking about. What I say--is sheer imbecility. However," he continued,
again, "I want to thank you. You have seen so little of me that I did
not expect you would be particularly interested, I--I----"

He hesitated again, and then ceased speaking. He had been looking at his
father, and something in his father's stare fascinated and disturbed his
train of thought. For the moment he was puzzled. From his childhood he
had felt that his father disliked him, though the reason of that dislike
he had never understood. It was one of those things that you get so
accustomed to that it is accepted, like baldness, as a matter of course,
as a thing which had to be and could not be otherwise. To his
grandfather, who was at once the most irascible and gentlest of men, and
whom he had loved instinctively, from the first, with the unreasoning
faith that children have--to him he had,