“I have performed only my duty in warning you, Lady Wynde,” said Sir John, after a pause. “You are bent upon this marriage with a man who was a stranger to you three months since, and so soon after the tragic death of Sir Harold Wynde in India?” “I have waited a year and three months before marrying again,” declared Lady Wynde, impatiently. “Why should I wait longer? Surely a year of mourning is all that custom requires. And as to not knowing Mr. Black, permit me to say that I know him well. I knew him before I ever met Sir Harold. Frequenting the same circles in town, and meeting more than once at the same houses in the country, it is impossible that I should not have known him. And here I beg you will drop the subject. I am in no mood to hear your aspersions of an honorable man, and your jealousy for the memory of Sir Harold Wynde need not blind you to the fact that virtue and honor did not die with him.” Sir John looked shocked and amazed. Neva’s face paled, and a sudden indignation flamed in her eyes, but she remained silent. “I think, with all deference to your opinion, Sir John,” said Mr. Atkins, “that, as Lady Wynde suggests, we would better drop the subject of Mr. Black. It is difficult to convey unpleasant information in a case like this without giving offence. We have done our duty, and that must content us. Let us now come to the actual business in hand. Allow me to ask you, Lady Wynde, if you intend to continue your residence at Hawkhurst after becoming Mrs. Craven Black?” A flash of defiance shot from her ladyship’s black eyes. “Certainly, I intend to reside here with my husband during the minority of my step-daughter,” she declared boldly. “I am Neva’s guardian, and my residence as such was assigned at Hawkhurst.” “Sir Harold never contemplated a state of affairs such as you propose Madam,” said Mr. Atkins doggedly. “To make this Mr. Craven Black nominal master of the home of the Wyndes is something utterly unlooked for.” “Where I am mistress, my husband will be master!” asserted Lady Wynde, with temper. “It should be so,” declared Mr. Atkins, “but you see how inappropriate it would be to make Mr. Black master of Hawkhurst. Good taste--pardon my plainness--would dictate your ladyship’s retirement from Hawkhurst upon the occasion of your third marriage, and we have come to propose that Hawkhurst be closed, Miss Neva transferred to the guardianship of Sir John Freise and Lady Freise, and that you and your new husband take up your abode at Wynde Heights, your dower house, or at any other place you may prefer.” Lady Wynde frowned her anger and defiance.