With urgent entreaties to leave her, an impassioned farewell, and a torrent of tears, Lola sent Philip from her presence—and, oh! the relief, when she saw him depart! As he stood on the doorstep, a hansom dashed up, and for a moment Gascoigne beheld his supplanter. The man descended heavily, a clumsy, elderly individual, with a big nose, bulging eyes, and a short grey beard. In a second the visitor recognised his rival, a well-set-up, gallant young fellow, whose handsome face looked white and haggard, a man of attractive personality, in short, a most formidable opponent. No, no, he and Lola were best apart; there would be no correspondence, no old playfellow nonsense, no sentiment. He was peculiarly alive to the disparity in his and Lola's age, and set his face as a flint against younger men. Mr. Waldershare was in the iron trade; his first wife had been a homely body, who had assisted him to lay the foundation of his colossal fortune. He might almost call himself "the Iron King;" now he was in quest of an "Iron Queen," and that with the eye of a keen, practical man of business. She must be the very best article on the market; young, well-born, and an undeniable beauty. Lola Hargreaves answered these requirements; added to which she had a certain amount of indolent ambition, and a delicate appreciation of the good things of life. It was true that her father was on the verge of bankruptcy, and mixed up with a sultry business connected with a mine, but his forebears had been crusaders, their monuments and deeds were extant in print and marble. Mr. Waldershare respected a fine pedigree—the one thing his thousands could not purchase—so he decided to marry Lola Hargreaves. That Lola had "a friend," he was aware; he had unexpectedly come face to face with him, a good-looking, manly young fellow, he did not propose to place himself in competition with a man of half his years, so he issued an edict—"Lola must drop young Gascoigne," and Lola obeyed. The interview in Mount Street had changed the whole course of Philip's life at one stroke; he had lost friends, sweetheart, home—for Earlsmead would be closed to him, and the boys naturally would avoid the man their sister had jilted. He exchanged immediately into the Indian service, with the stern resolve to woo the goddess of war, and to enlist under the standard of ambition. By-and-by, as she predicted, he became intensely sorry for Lola. He admired her lofty principles, her noble character, her unselfish devotion, and she was enshrined in his memory with the lustre of a treasure that is lost. CHAPTER XV LOLA