“You think he will be furious when he knows that he has a son-in-law?” said Laurence, gravely. “If you were a lord--or even a baronet--and had some sort of handle to your name----” “But as I have nothing--not even Q.C.?” “I think, from what I know of him, that he will be unpleasant, my dear Larry--very unpleasant.” “And the first shape that his unpleasantness will take will be to turn Madeline out of doors?” “Yes, I should say so--I think the odds are fifty to one.” “Well, she has her own home, at any rate. I shall set to work on Monday. I’ll go round and see about my old chambers. You can send me those papers, and tell Tom, the clerk, that I am coming back for good. I shall take lodgings as soon as I have looked round--in a more airy locality than Solferino Place. Mrs. Holt will keep the child till we are settled.” “You--er--mean--you and Mrs. Wynne?” looking curiously at his companion. “Well, yes; who else should I mean?” “Does she say anything about returning?” “No-o,” staring confusedly; “but it is understood.” Here ensued a short silence, during which Mr. Jessop was nerving himself to speak his mind to his friend--to speak for that friend’s good--a thankless task, but he assured himself that it was his _duty_. “Larry, old chap, you and I have been pals since we were in jackets at Harrow, and I’ve been your ally ever since the day you licked Thompson, major, for pitching into me. We’ve always stuck together somehow ever since. I think a great deal about your concerns. What hurts you hurts me.” “Out with it,” cried the other, brusquely. “Out with it. I know you are going to say something disagreeable. That will do for the overture!” “I must say one word to prepare you, old man,” suddenly standing up, laying his hand on his companion’s shoulder, and looking down into his face. “It is a fatal mistake to expect too much in life--to be too sanguine! Don’t--don’t be too sure that she _wants_ to come back.” CHAPTER XVI. TWO VISITS AND A LETTER. Miss West returned from her drive. She had been to Lord’s to see the Oxford and Cambridge cricket match. She had been surrounded by admirers, like flies round a pot of honey, and had the most eligible _partis_ of the season endeavouring to win their way to her good graces as she promenaded up and down between the innings, and partook of tea and strawberries in the tents; and Lady Rachel (who had her own diversions) looked on and said to herself, “That Madeline was becoming much too run after, and Tony would have to mind what he was about.” Meanwhile, Mr. West, for whose society there was no competition, hugged himself with joy, as he saw a baronet and a baron approach Madeline in turn. This was precisely as it should be! Then he went up to Lord Tony and said, “I say, Tony, wasn’t that the Duke of Margate I saw you talking to just now--a funny old Johnny, with a shabby hat and red face?”