"Of course it is hard for father," she said one day, when Waveney was lunching at Eaton Square. "He hates parting with his children. Don't you remember how low he was on my wedding day? But he soon cheered up. It will be all right, Wave, so don't worry. When you are once married he will make the best of it. Moritz says he must leave Cleveland Terrace and take a nice flat somewhere near you; and when Noel is at Oxford he can divide his time between us." And this view of the case was very consoling to Waveney. Mollie was in the seventh heaven of delight just then; she was to provide the _trousseau_ out of her own pin-money, and this thought gave her so much pleasure that Lord Ralston declared she even laughed in her sleep. But Lord Ralston's wedding present almost overwhelmed the young couple. He bought a house for them at Kensington and furnished it from basement to garret. When he placed the title deeds in Waveney's hands, she was speechless with surprise and joy. But Moritz refused to be thanked. "Mollie's sister was his," he said, in his airy fashion, "and it was his business to see that she was properly housed. "Chaytor is a good fellow," he went on, "and I respect him highly, and am proud to be connected with him. I shall stand your friend and his, as long as you both deserve it. And look here"--and here Lord Ralston glanced at Mollie's delighted face--"if you and Chaytor would like to do your honeymooning at the Hut, you are welcome to it." And when Waveney repeated this to Thorold, he said that it was far too good an offer to be refused. "Ralston is the prince of good fellows," he went on. "His generosity is as large as his purse. You will love those Scotch moors, Waveney. I have not been in the Highlands for years; it will be grand to see the heather and the grouse again." * * * * * After all, Everard Ward never had his flat, neither did he stay long at Number Ten, Cleveland Terrace; another, and far different, fate was in store for him. About three months after Waveney's marriage he went one afternoon to the Red House. He had only just returned from Brentwood Hall, where he had made the acquaintance of his first grandson; and, as usual, he wished to talk over the visit with his old friend Althea. For they were very dear friends now, and, next to his own daughters, he valued her womanly advice and sympathy. In summer, the door of the Red House always stood open, and he went in as usual unannounced. No one responded to his tap at the library door, and as he entered he thought, for a moment, the room was empty. The blinds were down, and the darkness rather bewildered him, coming out of the sunshine. But the next moment he caught sight of a grey figure in the shadow of the curtain. Althea was leaning back in her easy-chair. There was a green shade over her eyes, and her face was pale. Everard, who had never seen her before in one of her attacks, was much shocked.