“Plenty, and very good ones too. But I still think that you have another and better in the background. Well, for my part I shall only be too thankful if this can be brought about. It would be a fair marriage also, for such disadvantages as there are seem to be very equally divided; and I like your daughter, Levinger,—she is a sweet girl and interesting, even if she is old Will Johnson’s grandchild. Now I must be off and say something civil to my future son-in-law before he goes”—and, rising with something of an effort, Sir Reginald left the room. “Graves is breaking up, but he is still shrewd,” said Mr. Levinger to himself, gazing after him with his piercing eyes. “As usual he put his finger on the weak spot. Now, if he knew my last and best reason for wishing to see Emma married to his son, I wonder what he would do? Shrug his shoulders and say nothing, I expect. Beggars cannot be choosers, and bankrupts are not likely to be very particular. Poor old friend! I am sorry for him. Well, he shall spend his last days in peace if I can manage it—that is, unless Henry proves himself an obstinate fool, as it is possible he may.” Next morning Mr. Levinger and his daughter returned to Monk’s Lodge; but before they went it was settled that Henry was to visit them some three weeks later, on the tenth of June, that date being convenient to all concerned. On the following day Henry went to London for a week to arrange about a little pension to which he was entitled, and other matters. This visit did not improve his spirits, for in the course of his final attendances at the Admiralty he discovered for the first time how well he was thought of there, and that he had been looked on as a man destined to rise in the Service. “Pity that you made up your mind to go, Captain Graves—great pity!” said one of the head officials to him. “I always thought that I should see you an admiral one day, if I lived long enough. We had several good marks against your name here, I can tell you. However, it is too late to talk of all this now, and I dare say that you will be better off as a baronet with a big estate than banging about the world in an ironclad, with the chance of being shot or drowned. You are too good a man to be lost, if you will allow me to say so, and now that you are off the active list you must go into Parliament and try to help us there.” “By Heavens, sir,” answered Henry with warmth, “I’d rather be a captain of an ironclad in the Channel Fleet than a baronet with twenty thousand a year, though now I have no chance of either. But we can’t always please ourselves in this world. Good-bye.” And, turning abruptly, he left the room. “I wonder why that fellow went,” mused the official as the door closed. “For a young man he was as good a sailor as there is in the Service, and he really might have got on. Private affairs, I suppose. Well, it can’t be helped, and there are plenty ready to step into his shoes.”