Mr. Woodward, on receiving this missive, swore audibly, asserting that the devil might take him if he knew of any investment which could be called safe in the present unsettled state of the markets! For his visit to Gleneira, where, as he angrily put it, telegrams came occasionally and the post never--had somehow been the beginning of one of those streaks of real ill-luck which defy the speculator. The result being that Mr. Woodward generally left his office in the city poorer by some thousands than he had entered it in the morning, and though he knew his own fortune to be beyond the risk of actual poverty, it altered his outlook upon life, and threatened his credit as a successful financier. Nor did it threaten his alone; there were uncomfortable rumours of disaster in the air, which, in course of time, came to Lady George's ears. "I do hope Mr. Woodward is not mixed up in it," she said to Paul, as she sate working bilious-looking sunflowers on a faded bit of stuff for the Highland bazaar; "but he was a little _distrait_ when he came down last Sunday, and he didn't eat any dinner to speak of--we dined with them, you remember." "Perhaps I gave him too good a lunch at the club," replied her brother, jocosely; "besides, he wouldn't let a few losses spoil his appetite. He is well secured, and then he could always fall back on his share in the soap-boiling business." "I was not thinking of him, Paul, I was thinking of you. You could not boil soap." The fact was indubitable, and though her brother laughed, he felt vaguely that there were two sides to a bargain, and when his sister began on the subject again, he met her hints with a frown. "I am perfectly aware," he said, "that Patagonians are dangerous, and Mr. Woodward knows it as well as I do." "But he was nicked--that is how that city man I met at dinner last night put it--he was nicked in Atalantas also." "If you had asked me, Blanche, instead of inquiring from strangers, as you seem to have done," interrupted her brother, with great heat, "I could have told you he was nicked, as you choose to call it, heavily--very heavily. He has been unlucky of late. He admits it." "Good heavens, Paul! what are you going to do?" "Nothing. He is quite capable of managing his own affairs." "Don't pretend to be stupid, Paul! I mean your engagement." "What has business to do with that?" he asked, quickly taking the high hand; but Lady George was his match there. "Everything, unless you have fallen in love with her." Home thrusts of this sort are, however, unwise, since they rouse the meanest antagonist to resistance. "Have it so if you will. I am quite ready to admit that love has nothing to do with business. Honour has. I am engaged to Miss Woodward, and that is enough for me." Lady George shrugged her shoulders. There was a manly dogmatism about his manner which was simply unbearable.