“Tantamount had no right to make such a Will. I told him so at the time, and I’ve often regretted since that I didn’t refuse to draw it. He was playing with fire—hell fire. He might have messed up four lives. And, if he had, he’ld’ve paid for it. That sort of thing isn’t forgiven. . . . Now that I’ve seen the parties, my mind’s at rest. They’re out of the top drawer, both of ’em; and they’re splendidly matched. They don’t know it—yet, and they don’t like their hands being forced. For that’s what it is. One’s only human, you know, and in these lean years six hundred thousand’s a bait you can’t ignore. But they’ll come through all right. I’m not at all certain, myself, that we couldn’t have upset the Will. I’d always got the possibility up my sleeve. But now I shan’t use it.” Upon the night of their betrothal, neither Miss Vulliamy nor Pardoner had been at their best. They were uncomfortable and suspicious. They felt their position. To my mind, it does them real credit that they were not exceedingly sour. The circumstances were affording a unique occasion for the expression of irony and distaste. Each was, indeed, a mill-stone about the other’s neck. Add to this that they had been brought up as brother and sister, and had never looked upon one another in any other light, when you will see how easily Bitterness might have taken her seat at the board. The two had seen each other in the making—without any frills. . . . But Sarah and Virgil were two very charming people. After ten minutes with either of them you felt refreshed. I do not think I can pay them a higher compliment. Somebody once said that Miss Vulliamy always looked as though she had just had a cold shower. It was a good description. Her big blue eyes were always alight with expectancy, her eager face glowing, her pretty red mouth upon the edge of laughter. Her little way, too, of raising a delicate chin stuck fast in your memory, while the length of her exquisite lashes was almost unfair. Her figure and the slimness of her legs belonged to idylls. Looking upon the lady, you thought first of the dawn and then of dew and cool meadows. Sarah would have made an arresting Naiad. Shepherds who repaired to her fountain would have been constantly crowded out. Pardoner was tall, and conveyed the idea of laziness. It was his soft brown eyes that gave this impression. His thick dark hair and his high colour had earned him at Oxford the sobriquet of _Rouge et Noir_. An aquiline nose, and a firm, well-shaped mouth distinguished a handsome face. The way in which he wore his clothes brought his tailor much hardly merited custom. His most attractive voice delighted the ear. It was, in fact, hereby that his personality emerged. When he was silent, he passed in a well-mannered crowd; when he opened his mouth, other people stopped talking. * * * * * The two met in Bond Street a fortnight later.