He was back in two minutes. The first face he saw when he had made his duty bows was the face of the Beautiful Lady. She was radiant: and beside her stood her Jew, also radiant. _They had made it up._ And what is more--though he never knew it--they had made it up in that half-hour of delay caused by the Boots. The Lady passed our hero without a word or even a glance to acknowledge acquaintanceship, and he saw that the game was absolutely up. He swore under his breath. But the next moment he laughed to himself with a free heart. After all--for any documents, any evidence, for any success in any walk of life, how could he have borne to devote himself, as he had promised to do, to that Corsican lady, while the Girl, _the_ Girl, was in the room? And he perceived now that he should not even use the information he already had. It did not seem fitting that one to whom the Girl stooped to speak, for ever so brief a moment, should play the part of a spy--in however good a cause. "Back already?" said the old gentleman. "Thank you--my business is completed." The young man resumed his brown boots. "Now, Papa," said the Girl, "just go right along and do your devoirs in there--and I'll stay and talk to _him_--" The father went obediently. "Have you quarrelled with her, then?" asked the Girl, her eyes on the diamond buckles of her satin shoes. He told her everything--or nearly. "Well," she said decisively, "I'm glad you're out of it, anyway. Don't worry about it. It's a nasty trade. Papa'll find you a berth. Come out to the States and edit one of his papers!" "You told me he was a millionaire! I suppose everything went all right? He didn't lose his money or anything?" His tone was wistful. "Not he! You don't know Papa!" said the Girl; "but, say, you're not going to be too proud to be acquainted with a self-made man?" He didn't answer. "Say," said she again, "I don't take so much stock in dukes as I used to." She laid a hand on his arm. "Don't make a fool of me," said the young man, speaking very low. "I won't,"--her voice was a caress,--"but Papa shall make Something of you. You don't know Papa! He can make men's fortunes as easily as other folks make men's shoes. And he always does what I tell him. Aren't you glad to see me again? And don't you remember--?" said she, looking at him so kindly that he lost his head and-- "Ah! haven't you forgotten?" said he. * * * * * That is about all there is of the story. He is now a Something--and he has married the Girl. If you think that a young man of comparatively small income should not marry the girl he loves because her father happens to have made money in pork, I can only remind you that your opinion is not shared by the bulk of our English aristocracy. And they don't even bother about the love, as often as not. THE SECOND BEST THE letter was brief and abrupt.