The alertness had gone. "Would it?" she said indifferently, "Yes! I suppose it would." She said no more, though all unconsciously the iron was entering her heart, the young glad animal heart which clamoured for pleasure. Still, what her grandfather had called her good sense had shown her this unsuitability at once, though his grounds for his opinion were most likely very different from hers. At the same time it was her decision. She had made it of her own free will. There was no coercion about it. She had made it, and it was as well that others endorsed her action. So she essayed a smile and turned towards him. "Then I don't think I have any other chance of getting married just at present, grandfather," she said lightly, "but if anybody 'comes along----'" She paused, joking on the subject being a trifle beyond her. The old man sat looking at her with real affection overlaid by the quaint sense of magnanimity which pursued him in every relation of life, the result no doubt of his unquestioning acceptance of himself as philanthropic benefactor to the race. Should he or should he not tell her what he had just heard from Ted? Something in the slackness of her attitude as she sat crouched by the fire, something of weariness in the young face which, as a rule, was so buoyant with the _joie de vivre_, made him decide on telling her. There could be no harm in finding out how she was prepared to receive the suggestion. He drew his chair closer. "But there you are mistaken surely. Has it never occurred to you that--that perhaps--Mr. Cruttenden----" "Ted!" echoed Aura. "No! Grandfather, it is you who are mistaken. Ted and I have always been the best of friends--the very best of friends! but he has never--Oh! I can assure you he has never been the least-- never the least like Ned--I mean Lord Blackborough." "Perhaps that stands to his credit," remarked the old man chillily. "Love is not shown--by--by love-making. But I am sure of what I say, my dear, because--Ted as you call him--though in my young days--but we will let that pass for the present--told me himself that the dearest wish of his heart----" At this moment the door opened and Ted himself, light-hearted, free, eager to have what he could of Aura's company, came in. "I've finished," he cried, "so now for something better----" he paused, conscious that the air was full of something more important at any rate. Was it better, or was it worse?