"No, it was dad; he couldn't bear to have Effie so unhappy when I told him how she might go into a decline, she felt so wretched. But you see, having let Effie do that and helping her out, we couldn't afford any more detrimentals, although Jimmy's got his colonelcy and the cross and they are ever so happy. But we can't afford another love match. The bishop is dead and Ellen hasn't very much; and Lord Fairley has a big family; he was a widower with five when Ellen married him, and they have two; and _we_ are so deadly poor. It is really necessary, but it's awful. And I am sure she cares a lot for Reggy Sackville, a kind of cousin of ours who is a barrister, and she is sure he will be a judge, he is so clever; but he couldn't support a wife for years and years. Don't you think it's really and truly awful to have to marry _anybody_?" "Awful--intolerable," agreed Willy. "I simply will not." "And _your_ father wants you--" She looked so sympathetic that Willy broke right in: "Yes. I never seem able to do anything my father wants. I can't manage men and make friends and run the business as my brothers did. Now he wants me to marry a girl he has picked out for me; and I've got to disappoint him again. I wrote him I'd try to meet his wishes every other way--I'd accept dinner invitations; I'd learn the steel business; I could ride and run an automobile, and I had been up in an airship, and I'd try to win a golf cup; and I'm taking bridge lessons, but--the hand of Douglas was his own, you know." "I think that's splendid!" cried the girl heartily. "_I_ don't want to; but maybe I shall have to, to save Moira." "Don't you do it!" he exclaimed. "It makes me sick to think of their trying to force you into such a thing." He did look moved. "Don't get into such a wax. They can't force me--do I look like a person to be forced?--and poor old daddy of all people in the world! If you just knew him; we're the greatest pals in the world. But there's Moira. If I were to marry some one with a lot of money, she could marry poor Reggy; and Moira couldn't stand being unhappy near so well as I can." "Who's the man?" growled Willy in a tone of mingled gloom and fury. "I don't know his name," replied the girl sadly. "It was like this: Dad met his father, and they became very chummy, and they got to talking. He talked about his son, who is a 'nice fellow' with elegant tastes and doesn't like business. Oh, I know, a perfectly odious person." "Odious," Willy agreed morosely; "a downright _sissy_! You'd be _watched_!" "Yes," sighed Lady Jean; "but Moira would be wretcheder because she would always be thinking of Reggy. And besides"--she grew more cheerful--"men never fancy me; no doubt he'll think I'm too ugly and dowdy, and I'm so shy I shall be hideously awkward." "You're nothing of the kind!" Willy interrupted; "it--it's the most abominable cold-blooded bargain-and-sale business! And your father told you--"