Harold, this evening, was in a high good-humour. Everything had fallen out as he had desired that it should do. He was marrying a lovely girl, and would be envied for his prize far and wide. He would dress her in the prettiest attire obtainable for money, deck her out in costly jewels, and constantly bask in the reflected glory of her beauty. When they came back, he promised himself he would take precious good care she didn’t pay many calls at No. 9, or have her starveling relations to see her more than twice a year. At ten o’clock Albert, having completed his tasks, left the Albany. At eleven Jefferson was due at a farewell supper party which was to be given in his honour that night by some of his bachelor friends at the famous Whittingham restaurant, where they charge you eighteen-pence simply for hanging your hat up. The price of food and wine, reckoned on a similar scale, may be imagined. But then, Mr Jefferson and his friends set little store by a meal that did not cost them about six times more than it was worth. Harold had adjusted his tie and put on his overcoat, preparatory to sallying forth, when there came a knock at his door. Albert having departed, he was obliged to answer the summons himself. "Mr Maybury!" Harold’s tone smacked more of surprise than cordiality. "Yes, I am sorry to disturb you, Mr Jefferson, but my errand is an important one. May I come in?" "Of course, of course! I am afraid I cannot ask you to stay very long, as I have to be at the Whittingham at eleven. Some of my friends are giving me a send-off. Will you have a glass of champagne?" "No, thank you." "A cigar, then?" "Again, no, thank you. Such things would not harmonise with my errand, for I have come, Mr Jefferson, to break some very unpleasant news to you." "I hope nothing is wrong with Dora?" "My visit concerns Dora. To come to the point at once, I am afraid that this marriage arranged for to-morrow cannot take place." Jefferson stared at him aghast. "In the name of goodness--_why_ not?" Jefferson had seated himself on the table, one slippered foot just touching the floor. Mr Maybury walked up to him. "I am exceedingly sorry to have to bring you this news. Believe me, I feel for your position. The truth of the matter is, Dora loves another man, and therefore it would be most wrong on my part to allow your marriage with her to take place." Jefferson stared at his visitor in amazement "Are you quite sober, sir?" he demanded. "Yes, I am absolutely sober." "Then allow me to tell you that you are talking so much tomfoolery! Of course the marriage must take place! How on earth can you have allowed yourself to come here with such a suggestion? I suppose Dora is in a state of nervousness that borders on hysteria and so has got some foolish fancy into her head that she doesn’t like me enough. For Heaven’s sake, man, go home and reason with her, and don’t delay me any longer with such a wild-goose tale."