rogress, she smiled and
answered, thinking: 'If that were Jon's voice!' and when once he said:
"Fleur, you look a perfect angel in that dress!" she answered: "Oh, do
you like it?" thinking: 'If only Jon could see it!'

During this drive she took a resolution. She would go to Robin Hill and
see him--alone; she would take the car, without word beforehand to him
or to her father. It was nine days since his letter, and she could wait
no longer. On Monday she would go! The decision made her well disposed
towards young Mont. With something to look forward to she could afford
to tolerate and respond. He might stay to dinner; propose to her as
usual; dance with her, press her hand, sigh--do what he liked. He was
only a nuisance when he interfered with her fixed idea. She was even
sorry for him so far as it was possible to be sorry for anybody but
herself just now. At dinner he seemed to talk more wildly than usual
about what he called 'the death of the close borough'--she paid little
attention, but her father seemed paying a good deal, with a smile on
his face which meant opposition, if not anger.

"The younger generation doesn't think as you do, sir; does it, Fleur?"

Fleur shrugged her shoulders--the younger generation was just Jon, and
she did not know what he was thinking.

"Young people will think as I do when they're my age, Mr. Mont. Human
nature doesn't change."

"I admit that, sir; but the forms of thought change with the times. The
pursuit of self-interest is a form of thought that's going out."

"Indeed! To mind one's own business is not a form of thought, Mr. Mont,
it's an instinct."

Yes, when Jon was the business!

"But what is one's business, sir? That's the point, EVERYBODY'S
business is going to be one's business. Isn't it, Fleur?"

Fleur only smiled.

"If not," added young Mont, "there'll be blood."

"People have talked like that from time immemorial."

"But you'll admit, sir, that the sense of property is dying out?"

"I should say increasing among those who have none."

"Well, look at me! I'm heir to an entailed estate. I don't want the
thing; I'd cut the entail to-morrow."

"You're not married, and you don't know what you're talking about."

Fleur saw the young man's eyes turn rather piteously upon her.

"Do you really mean that marriage--?" he began.

"Society is built on marriage," came from between her father's close
lips; "marriage and its consequences. Do you want to do away with i