“My dear fellow,” Frank said despondently; “what on earth would be the good of my entering at the bar? I should never read—you know that as well as I do; and consequently I should have no more to do than I have now, with the additional disadvantage of being obliged to dine so often in Hall, instead of being able to get my dinner where I like. As to literary work, the thing’s simply absurd; what on earth should I write about? And when I had fixed on a subject, what in the name of goodness should I have to say about it? Upon my word, Prescott, your suggestions are positively childish.” Prescott shrugged his shoulders, and smoked for some time in silence. Presently he took his pipe from his mouth, and asked suddenly— “Why don’t you get married, Frank?” “Married! My dear Prescott, I wish you would not talk in that light way of such a serious business. I should as soon think of flying up to the moon. Besides, whom in the world should I marry? I go out to parties and balls, and flirt with dozens of girls, but I never think any more of them, nor do they of me. Just imagine one of their faces, if I were to say, ‘Madam, your obedient servant is on the look-out for a wife; will you supply the deficiency?’” Frank laughed loudly; Prescott smiled, and then was quiet for some time. At last he said, with a sort of effort— “There is one young lady with whom you are at any rate on intimate terms. I mean, of course, Miss Heathcote.” “Alice!” Frank exclaimed in great surprise; “now that is about the very last suggestion I should have expected to hear from you; for, upon my word, in the three or four times we have been down there together, since I came back, you were so quiet, and—you know what I mean—that I had a sort of suspicion that you were spoony there yourself!” Prescott coloured up hotly. “My dear Frank,” he said, gravely, “I have a very great esteem for Miss Heathcote; I think her a very loveable woman, but had I any deeper feeling for her, I should only endeavour to lay it aside as quickly as possible, because I know that I should not have the remotest chance in the world.” “Upon my word now, Prescott, I don’t see why; Alice is an heiress, but I don’t know that her money would be a serious obstacle. She has no one to consult but herself, and if she fancies you, why should she not have you?” “I am not speaking of money, Frank. If Miss Heathcote loved me, she would think nothing of her money; and I—although I would far rather bring wealth to my wife than that she should to me, still that would be no great obstacle. I am speaking of herself. I know that she would never care for me. So please do not let us discuss that part of the question. We were speaking of her in reference to yourself. Unless I am greatly mistaken, your uncle would be very pleased if you were to marry her. Why should you not do so?”