‘You have told me that, sir, pretty often,’ retorted Jasper testily; ‘of course it’s yours, and you can leave it to the Foundling Hospital if you like.’ ‘Common policy then would dictate,’ said Sir Sykes with deliberate emphasis, ‘the study of my wishes. And I wish very much indeed that Miss Willis should become your wife.’ ‘I can’t, as I said, do it at the price; really I can’t,’ rejoined Jasper sullenly, as he thrust his hand into a side-pocket and fingered the cigar-case that lay there. He did not dare to light a cigar in the library, much as he longed to seek solace in smoke; but he grew impatient for the interview to come to an end, and to recover his freedom. ‘I offered a handsome income,’ said Sir Sykes with an offended look. ‘Had not the sum proposed proved sufficient, that was a difficulty not insuperable. You had the option of beginning married life with the revenue of an average baronet.’ ‘Yes; but you see, sir, you are a trifle above the mark of an average baronet’ responded the captain; ‘and I naturally should like when my turn comes—I hope it will be a long time first—to fill the same position. A bare allowance, or a lump of settled money, won’t make me the equal of an ordinary eldest son; and I don’t see why, since by accident I’m not on a par with other fellows of my nominal rank and prospects, and I am required to marry without being allowed to choose for myself, I should not be put on a level with men of my own standing.’ Sir Sykes fidgeted restlessly in his chair, and the lines of pain about his mouth, which grew more sharply defined every day, deepened almost perceptibly. ‘Consider what you are asking of me,’ he said with an injured air; ‘to make myself a mere tenant for life where I have been for twenty years owner in fee-simple! Sons do not ask their fathers to entail an estate for their benefit.’ ‘I don’t see why I should be in a worse position than other fellows,’ sullenly responded Jasper. ‘I may have been extravagant and that sort of thing; but there’s no reason why my extravagances should be totted up against me to a heavier sum-total than those of twenty I could name. Hookham, now, who let his father in for a hundred and eleven thousand the year that the French horse Plon-Plon won the Derby, is as safe of the Snivey estates as he is of the Snivey peerage.’ ‘The Earl of Snivey and his prodigal heir Lord Hookham,’ answered Sir Sykes with cold urbanity, ‘do not present a case, to my mind, precisely in point. You cannot in reason expect me, after the sacrifices I have already made on your behalf, to place you in the position, as you call it, of heir of entail. I am speaking to you less as a father than as a man of the world.’