ne agrees that, in spite of his theories, he has a good
head for business; and whatever he does at Westmore for the advantage of
his children will naturally be for Cicely's advantage too."

Mr. Langhope returned her gaze thoughtfully. "There's something in what
you say," he admitted after a pause. "But it doesn't alter the fact
that, with Amherst unmarried, the whole of the Westmore fortune would
have gone back to Cicely--where it belongs."

"Possibly. But it was so unlikely that he would remain unmarried."

"I don't see why! A man of honour would have felt bound to keep the
money for Cicely."

"But you must remember that, from Mr. Amherst's standpoint, the money
belongs rather to Westmore than to Cicely."

"He's no better than a socialist, then!"

"Well--supposing he isn't: the birth of a son and heir will cure that."

Mr. Langhope winced, but she persisted gently: "It's really safer for
Cicely as it is--" and before the end of the conference he found himself
confessing, half against his will: "Well, since he hadn't the decency
to remain single, I'm thankful he hasn't inflicted a stranger on us; and
I shall never forget what Miss Brent did for my poor Bessy...."

It was the view she had wished to bring him to, and the view which, in
due course, with all his accustomed grace and adaptability, he presented
to the searching gaze of a society profoundly moved by the incident of
Amherst's marriage. "Of course, if Mr. Langhope approves--" society
reluctantly murmured; and that Mr. Langhope did approve was presently
made manifest by every outward show of consideration toward the
newly-wedded couple.

* * * * *

Amherst and Justine had been married in September; and after a holiday
in Canada and the Adirondacks they returned to Hanaford for the winter.
Amherst had proposed a short flight to Europe; but his wife preferred to
settle down at once to her new duties.

The announcement of her marriage had been met by Mrs. Dressel with a
comment which often afterward returned to her memory. "It's splendid for
you, of course, dear, _in one way_," her friend had murmured, between
disparagement and envy--"that is, if you can stand talking about the
Westmore mill-hands all the rest of your life."

"Oh, but I couldn't--I should hate it!" Justine had energetically
rejoined; meeting Mrs. Dressel's admonitory "Well, then?" with the
laughing assurance that _she_ meant to lead the conversation.

Sh