n to my friends, perhaps I might."

"Do you know what I 'd do if I were you?"

"I have not an idea."

"I 'd marry,--by Jove, I would!--I 'd marry!"

"I 've thought of it half a dozen times," said he, stretching out his
hand for the decanter, and rather desirous of escaping notice; "but,
you see, to marry a woman with money,--and of course it's that you
mean,--there's always the inquiry what you have yourself, where it is,
and what are the charges on it. Now, as you shrewdly guessed awhile ago,
I dipped my estate,--dipped it so deep that I begin to suspect it won't
come up again."

"But look out for a woman that has her fortune at her own disposal."

"And no friends to advise her."

O'Shea's face, as he said this, was so absurdly droll that Agincourt
laughed aloud. "Well, as you observe, no friends to advise her. I
suppose you don't care much for connection,--I mean rank?"

"As for the matter of family, I have enough for as many wives as
Bluebeard, if the law would let me have them."

"Then I fancy I know the thing to suit you. She's a stunning pretty
woman, besides."

"Where is she?"

"At Rome here."

"And who is she?"

"Mrs. Penthony Morris, the handsome widow, that's on a visit to the
Heathcotes. She must have plenty of tin, I can answer for that, for
old Nathan told me she was in all the heavy transfers of South American
shares, and was a buyer for very large amounts."

"Are you sure of that?"

"I can give my word on it. I remember his saying one morning, 'The widow
takes her losses easily; she minds twelve thousand pounds no more than
I would a five-pound note."

"They have a story here that she's going to marry old Heathcote."

"Not true,--I mean, that she won't have him."

"And why? It was clear enough she was playing that game for some time
back."

"I wanted Charley to try his chance," said Agincourt, evading the
question; "but he is spooney on his cousin May, I fancy, and has no
mind to do a prudent thing."

"But how am I to go in?" said O'Shea, timidly. "If she's as rich as you
say, would she listen to a poor out-at-elbows Irish gentleman, with only
his good blood to back him?"

"You 're the man to do it,--the very man."

O'Shea shook his head.

"I say you 'd succeed. I 'd back you against the field."

"Will you make me a bet on it?"

"With all my heart! What shall it be?"

"Lay me a hundred to one, in tens, and I give you my solemn word of
honor I 'll do my very best to lose