"That ought to form a bond of sympathy between us, seeing that I am one of the most matter-of-fact people in the City of London." "I have been told that bonds of sympathy are very dangerous things. Papa's Three-per-cent. bonds would be a much safer investment." Van Duren laughed. "How would it be, Miss Byrne, if I were to go through a course of reading under your tuition?" "Do you mean the reading of love-stories?" "That, and nothing else, is what I mean. "How would it be possible for me to act as your tutor in such a course of reading when I don't know the alphabet of the language myself?" "How would it be if we were to try to learn the alphabet together?" "I am afraid that I am too old to learn a fresh language. Besides, if you are as ignorant as you say you are, we should not know the proper sounds to give to the different letters." "Nature would be our schoolmistress. With her to teach us, we should soon become apt scholars." "Very well. We will have our first lesson on Monday. But before we begin, you shall go and bowl your hoop a dozen times round the square at the bottom of the street, and I will sit on a doorstep, with a doll in my arms, and watch you." All at once Peter Byrne, who for the last ten minutes had been gazing intently into the fire, and neither stirring nor speaking, turned in his chair, and said to Miriam-- "Go up to your room, Pussy, for a little while; I want to have a little private talk with Mr. Van Duren." Miriam rose. "Shall I not see you again?" asked Van Duren. "Yes," whispered Miriam. Then she crossed to the basket of flowers, plucked a spray, placed it in the bosom of her dress, smiled at Van Duren, and went. Van Duren's face lost its brightness as soon as Miriam left the room. He crossed to Byrne's chair, laid his coarse hand on the old man's shoulder, and said, not without a touch of sternness-- "I am at your service, sir." He was obliged to speak in a louder tone of voice than usual, and that of itself annoyed him. "Sit down, Mr. Van Duren--sit down close beside me. I have something to say to you. But are you sure that we are quite alone?" "We are quite alone, Mr. Byrne." "Good." He said no more for a minute or two, but fumbled nervously with his handkerchief, still keeping his eyes fixed intently on the fire. Then he had a little fit of coughing. When that was over, and he had recovered his breath, he laid his hand on Mr. Van Duren's wrist, and spoke. "We can't expect to live for ever, Mr. Van Duren--eh?" "I suppose not," said Mr. Van Duren, with a sneer; "and I for one would certainly not care to do so." "Are you one of those people who think that a man is likely to die any the sooner for having made his will?" "Certainly not. I am no believer in such foolish superstitions." "When a man has anything to leave--when he has any dispositions to make with regard to his property, it is best not to put off making them till the last moment--eh?"