Lord Quaintree left the management of his son completely in the hands of the mother. The Honorable Gerald had bitterly disappointed his hopes and wounded his pride. He had built up a delightful little castle in the air during the boyhood of this only son, which had been blown to the winds when the Honorable Gerald entered his teens. He saw that nothing could be made of Gerald, and therefore agreed, without a murmur, to the proposal of the mother that the youth should become a soldier. However, he resented the denseness of this handsome, empty pate as deeply as if it had been the poor boy’s fault instead of his misfortune. The old man was not only a great lawyer and an intellectual giant, but tender-hearted and religious, and took an interest in ragged-schools, refuges, and various kindred institutions for the benefit of tangled bundles of patchwork clothing. If it had been possible, he would have put his boy into the church; but Gerald was fit for nothing. The Honorable Gerald imagined himself of a romantic turn of mind, and he found Lois Turquand the prettiest and decidedly the most interesting girl he had ever seen. So he took the idea into his head that he was in love with her, and accordingly flirted in a languid manner with her, or tried to do so. He did not pretend to have any “intentions,” and his mother was certain there was not any particular danger. Lois treated his advances with supreme indifference. He liked to see her open her great, serious eyes at some of his silly compliments, half in astonishment, half in rebuke; he liked to flatter himself with the notion that those large, brilliant, liquid eyes would soften into ineffable sweetness if he condescended to throw himself at her feet. He was indeed as far in love with her as he could be with anybody but himself. That he should ever be so rash, so insane, as to marry her companion, Lady Quaintree had not feared. Had he been a different kind of young man, she might have dreaded the occasional intimate meeting between these two. But there was no reason to be alarmed, and she sunned herself in the bright, cheerful sweetness of the young girl’s company without the slightest misgiving. Had she been obliged to choose any one from love for her son’s wife, she would have gathered this charming flower from the garden of girls. And now many would try to win Lois. Not by birth, but by wealth, she was on a level with the sparkling beauties about her, from whom she had hitherto been fenced off.