"I've an idea," he went on. "What do you say to your living with me? A nice little place somewhere in London. I've felt for a long time that I should settle down. Your father will have left you a little money--not much, perhaps, but just enough for us to manage comfortably. And there we'd be, as easy as anything. I can see us very happy together." But he did not as yet know his niece. She shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm going to live with Aunt Anne and Aunt Elizabeth. We wouldn't be happy, Uncle, you and I. Our house would always be in a mess and there are so many things that I must learn that only another woman could teach me. I never had a chance with father." He had entered upon this little walk with every intention of settling the whole affair before their return. He had had no idea of any opposition--her ignorance of the world would make her easy to adapt. But now when he saw that she had already considered the matter and was firmly resolved, his arguments deserted him. "Just consider a moment," he said. "I think it will be best for me to live with the aunts," she answered firmly. "They have wished it before. Of course then it was impossible but now it will do very well." He had one more attempt. "You won't be happy there, my dear, with all their religion and the rest of it--and two old maids. You'll see no life at all." "That depends upon myself," she answered, "and as to their religion at least they believe in it." "Yes, your Aunt Anne is a very sincere woman," Uncle Mathew answered grimly. He was angry and helpless. She seemed suddenly some one with whom it was impossible to argue. He had intended to be pathetic, to paint delightful pictures of uncle and niece sheltering snugly together defended by their affection against a cold and hostile London. His own eyes had filled with tears as he thought of it. What a hard, cold-hearted girl she was! Nevertheless for the moment he abandoned the subject.