'Harcourt, I think Geraldine is tired, and would like you to take her home,' observed Dr. Ross, interrupting the stream of eloquence; and Mr. Harcourt, without finishing his sentence, went at once in search of his wife. Women might be illogical, but they were to be considered, for all that. With all his satire and love of argument, Mr. Harcourt valued his wife's comfort before his own. 'I am quite ready, dear,' he said, as she looked up at him with a deprecating smile; 'and I know your mother will excuse us.' Dr. Ross had walked with his daughter to the gate. Young Mrs. Harcourt was a woman who always exacted these little attentions from the menkind around her; without demanding them, she took them naturally as her right and prerogative. It would have seemed strange to her if her father had not offered her his arm. 'Good-bye, father dear,' she said, giving him her firm cool cheek to kiss; 'Percy and I have had such a nice evening.' Dr. Ross walked back to the house; then he went to his study and lighted his reading-lamp. There was a certain interesting debate in the _Times_ which he wished much to read--a Ministerial crisis was at hand, and Dr. Ross, who was Conservative to the backbone, was aware that his party was menaced. He had just taken the paper in his hand when Audrey came into the room. 'Good-night, my dear,' he said, without looking up; but Audrey did not take the hint. 'Daddy, I want to speak to you,' she said very quietly; 'will you please put that paper down for a moment?' And then she added, 'I want to speak to you very particularly.' Dr. Ross heaved a sigh and lowered his paper somewhat reluctantly. 'Would not another time have done as well?' he grumbled good-humouredly; 'Harcourt has taken up all the evening. That is the worst of having an elderly son-in-law; one is bound to be civil to him; one could not tell him to hold his tongue, for example.' 'I think Percival would resent such a hint,' returned Audrey rather absently. She had drawn a low chair close to her father's knee, so that she could touch him, and now she looked up in his face a little pleadingly. 'Well, what is it, child?' he went on, still fingering his paper; 'I suppose you want help for some _protegee_ or other--moderation in all things. I warn you that I have not got Fortunatus's purse.' 'It is not money I want,' she returned, so gravely that he began to feel uncomfortable. 'Daddy, it is something very, very different. This afternoon Cyril Blake spoke to me, and I--that is, we--are engaged.' Dr. Ross gave a great start and dropped the _Times_ as though it burnt him. For a moment he did not speak. With all his mildness and benevolence, he was a man of strong passions, though no one would have guessed it from his habitual self-control. 'We are engaged,' she repeated softly, and then she stroked her father's hand; but he drew it rather quickly away.