To begin with it was plain he mistrusted McTaggart's unforeseen departure; only too evident that he thought this foreign trip a way of escape from the outcome of an evening's folly! But, in any case, whether or no his intentions toward Cydonia were honorable and uninvolved by any "pecuniary consideration," McTaggart stood no earthly chance of success as his son-in-law. Cydonia was destined to higher flights ... (McTaggart thought of Bethune's words: "Some young ass with a title and debts!") She would inherit a large fortune and her beauty and costly education "would fit her for any position." "She's _almost_ worthy," McTaggart sneered, "to become the Marchesa Maramonte." For anger was still dominant. The lonely longing was to follow. The letter, pompous, devoid of tact, went on to a definite prohibition. Cadell closed the door of his house in the face of the undesirable suitor. A note of spite rang out sharp in the older man's reference to his daughter's note. "The enclosure will make the matter clear." It did. McTaggart leaned down and pushed both letters into the stove, watching the flames rise high, turning love into ashes. Long he sat there, his chin on his hands, his blue eyes staring into space. The clock ticked on noisily, marking the death of more than Time. Broken ideals, vanished dreams ... enthusiasm, loyalty; wasted at an unworthy shrine--his mind veered round at last to Fantine. Women were all alike, it seemed. Creatures of impulse, without honour... There came a knock at his bedroom door--a message from the Marchesa. He rose to his feet with a curious smile. The French maid was waiting outside. McTaggart, pointing to Bethune's letter, explained that business of importance required an immediate answer. He would be with her mistress shortly--the time to write a hurried line... He paused as the girl raised her eyes and, in the darkness of the passage, slipping an arm round her waist, he stole a kiss from her fresh mouth, amused at the maid's swift surrender. Then he passed her and went downstairs. "That's the only way to treat them!" he said to himself, with no sense of pleasure, but a perverse, cold disgust. In the hall he sat down, drew out a sheet of black-edged paper with a coronet engraved upon it and wrote forthwith to Cadell. He abided by the parent's decision ... Cydonia was, indeed, young ... He wished, however, to make it clear that his departure for Italy had been, by its nature, unavoidable. His uncle and his cousins were dead. He gave them their full sonorous titles. And, as heir to their fortune and estates, his presence had been imperative. A faint flicker of malice passed over his mouth as he wrote the phrase and pictured the recipient's eyes starting out of his red face. Mr. Cadell could rest assured that never again would McTaggart trespass across the threshold of his house ... He thanked him for past hospitality.