“Two types of people born with silver spoons in their mouths,” remarked the elder man in his smooth, even voice. “She is the apple of old Rupert’s eyes, and young Croxton is as dear to him as a son. They will ultimately get the millions the old man has piled up. And unless I am very much mistaken, there is already a pretty good understanding between the young couple, and the millions will be united.” The nephew had not spoken up to the present. Truth to tell, when Sir George was there with his ceaseless flow of urbane small talk, it was not very easy for another person to get a hearing, but now he found voice. “I have not the slightest doubt of that. The old boy seems to approve, apparently has no wish that she should look higher, and my aunt doesn’t disapprove, although I don’t think it would greatly affect matters if she did. Miss Rosabelle, good-tempered as she is, has a very strong will of her own in things that affect her strongly, and the old man, being so fond of them both, would take their part against his wife.” Sir George shrugged his shoulders. “What must be will be. It is a pity though that this young Croxton has fascinated her. But for him, you might have had a chance, and of course you would have had your aunt’s backing.” “I’m not the sort that finds favour in the eyes of men like Morrice,” said the nephew curtly. “He leads too strenuous a life himself to take very kindly to an idler like me. And Croxton might be his own son from certain aspects of his character. He’s a tremendous worker, like the old man, and I fancy Rosabelle prefers the strenuous type herself, and that she has no great liking for people who just saunter through life.” “Strange that Morrice should work so hard at his time of life, although of course fifty-five is not a very great age. You’d think he had millions enough without slaving to pile up a few more for the young people to spend. And he has no vices, no weaknesses to run away with his money.” And again Sir George indulged in that rather melancholy sigh as he gave utterance to these sage remarks. “He’ll die in harness as his father and grandfather died before him,” said the young man decidedly. “It’s ingrained in them. But it does seem a pity that there’s nobody of his own blood to take the reins, I mean of course in the male line. But see, my aunt is beckoning me. We shall meet as usual to-morrow, if I don’t come across you again to-night.” Sir George made his exit; evening parties did not appeal to him greatly. He went to one of his clubs where he was sure to find some eager gambling spirits like himself, and Archie Brookes made his way through the crowded rooms to his aunt, with whom he held a long conversation.