"I don't know very much about Laura," said Charley musingly. "She's a fine girl certainly; looks rather Jewish, though, with those big red lips of hers and that hooked nose." "My dear Charley!" remonstrated Sir Philip. "But she rides well--sits that great rawboned mare of hers gloriously. I saw her take a leap on the last day I was out--one that I took too, about half an hour before that fall; but hang me if it wasn't to avoid being outdone by a woman! I really wanted to shirk it." "Good, good!" laughed Sir Philip. "But she's fast, and not feminine, to my way of thinking," said Charley, gazing up as he spoke at the picture above the mantelpiece, and comparing the lady in question with the truly gentle mother whom he had almost worshipped. "She burst out with a hoarse `Bravo!' when she saw me safely landed, and then shouted, `Well done, Charley!' and I felt so nettled, that I pulled out my cigar-case, and asked her to take one." "But she did not?" exclaimed Sir Philip. "Well, no," said Charley, "she did not, certainly--she only laughed; but she looked just as if she were half disposed. She's one of your Spanish style of women: scents, too, tremendously--bathes in Ihlang-Ihlang, I should think; perhaps because she delights in garlic and onions, and wants to smother the odour!" "My dear boy--my dear boy!" laughed Sir Philip, "you do really want polish horribly! What a way to speak of a lady! It's terrible, you know! But there, don't judge harshly, and you are perfectly unfettered; only just bear this in mind: it would give me great pleasure if you were to lead Laura Bray in here some day and say--But there, you know--you know! Still I place no tie upon you, Charley: only bring me some fair sweet girl--by birth a lady, of whom I can be proud--and then all I want is that you shall give me a chair at your table and fireside. You might have the title if it were possible, but you shall have the Court and the income--everything. Only let me have my glass of wine and my bit of snuff, and play with your children. Heaven bless you, my dear boy! I'll go off the bench directly, and you shall be a county magistrate; but you must be married, Charley--you must be married!" Charley Vining did not appear to be wonderfully elated by his future prospects, for, sighing, he said: "Really, father, I could have been very happy to have gone on just as we are; but your wishes--" "Yes, my dear boy, my wishes. And you will try? Only don't bother yourself; take time, and mix a little more with society--accept a few more invitations--go to a few of the archery and croquet parties." "Heigho, dad!" sighed Charley. "Why, I should be sending arrows for fun in the stout old dowagers' backs, and breaking the slow curates' shins with my croquet mallet! There, leave me to my own devices, and I'll see what I can do!" "To be sure--to be sure, Charley! And you do know Maximilian Bray?"