“You see all our smartest young men down there, Miss Gordon--at your feet in one sense, and they will be there in another, before long. I can tell you all about them--it’s a good thing for a strange young lady to know how the land lies, and get the straight tip, and know what are trumps.” “What do you mean?” asked Honor, frigidly. “Oh, come now,” with an odious chuckle, “you know what I mean. I want to point you out some of the people, and, as I am the oldest resident, you could not be in better hands. There’s Captain Billings of the Bays, the fellow with the yellow cap, playing with Miss Clover, the prettiest girl here----” He paused, to see if the shot told, or if the statement would be challenged; but no. “That is Toby Joy, who acts and dances and ought to be in a music-hall, instead of in the service. There is Jenkins of the Crashers, the thin man with a red belt; very rich. His father made the money in pigs or pills--not what you’d call aristocratic, but he is well gilded. Then there is Alston of the Gray Rifles--good-looking chap, eldest son; and Howard of the Queen’s Palfreys--old family, heaps of tin; but he drinks. Now, which of these young men are you going to set your cap at?” “None of them,” she answered with pale dignity. “Oh, come! I’ll lay you five to one you are married by this time next year.” “No--not by this time five years.” “Nonsense! Then what did you come out for, my dear young lady? You won’t throw dust in the eyes of an old ‘Qui hye’ like me, who has seen hundreds of new spins in his day? I suppose you think you have come out to be a comfort to your aunt and uncle? Not a bit of it! You have come out to be a comfort to some young man. Take a friend’s advice,” lowering his voice to a more confidential key, “and keep your eye steadily on the millionaire.” “Colonel Sladen,” her lips trembling with passion, her eyes blazing with wrath, “I suppose you are joking, and think all this very funny. It does not amuse me in the least; on the contrary, I--I think it is a pitiable thing to find a man of your age so wanting in good taste, and talking such vulgar nonsense!” “Do you really?” in a bantering tone, and not a wit abashed--in fact, rather pleased than otherwise. “_No_ sense of respect for your elders! Ho, ho, ho! No sense of humour, eh? Why, I believe you are a regular young fire-ship! We shall be having the whole place in a blaze--a fire-Brande, that’s a joke, eh?--not bad. I see Tombs beckoning; he has got up a rubber at last, thank goodness! Sorry to tear myself away. Think over my advice. Au revoir,” and he departed, chuckling. “Did you ever know such a detestable man?” she exclaimed, turning to Jervis with tears of anger glittering in her eyes. “Well, once or twice it _did_ occur to me to heave him over the palings--if I was able.” Honor burst into an involuntary laugh, as she thought of their comparative weight. “He did it on purpose to draw you, and he has riled you properly.”