"The old woman has given her a superior education, and lavished money on her, and now takes her everywhere, for the pure pleasure of the reflected glory she enjoys as aunt of the celebrated Miss Chandos! The girl is her hobby. Instead of cats, china, or old furniture, her craze is Verona, and she carries her about, and exhibits her, like a prize animal, enters her for all the big shows, such as this--and when her property comes in an easy first, looks on with a grin extending from ear to ear, and for all I know, meeting under her wig!" Here Sir Horace paused, and struck his cane forcibly on the gravel as he added: "Miss Chandos is the beauty here this year; all the world is at her feet." "And what does she say to all the world?" "Nothing particular. Takes it as a matter of course--though she is not a bit conceited, to give her her due--smiles and laughs, as you see, and turns to conquests new." "Such as the chap in the blue coat! Are the poor devils _never_ out of uniform?" "Never, except at tennis, and then they change before leaving the pavilion. Miss Chandos would be a splendid match for some needy baron or princelet. She will come in for fifteen thousand a year, and the money is all there--I happen to know it for a fact." "Fifteen thousand a year--and beauty--will never stoop to a poor captain in the line!" "Why not!" argued Sir Horace, "a good-looking chap, a future baronet, with a pedigree that goes back to the Picts, is not to be despised!" "He will be despised, all the same," muttered his nephew, in a tone of sombre conviction. "And I tell you, you can't do better, Malcolm. I'll present you; it's an intimate sort of life--we all meet three or four times daily; golf and picnics are easily arranged. Then there is the Casino Terrace of a night, and romantic and sequestered walks hard by. In a week you should be able to report progress. The game lies to your hand!" "I assure you, sir, I really could not face it; it's too cold-blooded! too bare-faced--and there is something unnatural in sitting here, on a bench before breakfast, coolly discussing a possible marriage with a girl to whom I've never even spoken!" "A marriage discussed before breakfast is far more likely to be a success than one arranged after dinner!" responded Sir Horace, with knitted brows. "I'm afraid you are a fool! What have you against it?" "Nothing. I admit that Miss Chandos is the prettiest girl I've seen for ages. I admire her immensely. Now if she had but a few hundreds a year----" "She would not do at all," interrupted his uncle impatiently. "Well! the gods cannot help a man who refuses opportunity. Why should you not try your luck?" "What's the good--it will only be adding to her scalps." "Nothing venture, nothing have," declared Sir Horace, rising as he spoke. "Come, we must be moving--it is long past the time for my second glass."