They had a quiet little hotel dinner, ordered by Adrian, and made a square at the table, Ripton Thompson being the fourth. Richard sent down to his office to fetch him, and the two friends shook hands for the first time since the great deed had been executed. Deep was the Old Dog’s delight to hear the praises of his Beauty sounded by such aristocratic lips as the Hon. Peter Brayder’s. All through the dinner he was throwing out hints and small queries to get a fuller account of her; and when the claret had circulated, he spoke a word or two himself, and heard the Hon. Peter eulogize his taste, and wish him a bride as beautiful; at which Ripton blushed, and said, he had no hope of that, and the Hon. Peter assured him marriage did not break the mould. After the wine this gentleman took his cigar on the balcony, and found occasion to get some conversation with Adrian alone. “Our young friend here—made it all right with the governor?” he asked carelessly. “Oh yes!” said Adrian. But it struck him that Brayder might be of assistance in showing Richard a little of the ‘society in every form’ required by his chief’s prescript. “That is,” he continued, “we are not yet permitted an interview with the august author of our being, and I have rather a difficult post. ’Tis mine both to keep him here, and also to find him the opportunity to measure himself with his fellow-man. In other words, his father wants him to see something of life before he enters upon housekeeping. Now I am proud to confess that I’m hardly equal to the task. The demi, or damnedmonde—if it’s that he wants him to observe—is one that I have not got the walk to.” “Ha! ha!” laughed Brayder. “You do the keeping, I offer to parade the demi. I must say, though, it’s a queer notion of the old gentleman.” “It’s the continuation of a philosophic plan,” said Adrian. Brayder followed the curvings of the whiff of his cigar with his eyes, and ejaculated, “Infernally philosophic!” “Has Lord Mountfalcon left the island?” Adrian inquired. “Mount? to tell the truth I don’t know where he is. Chasing some light craft, I suppose. That’s poor Mount’s weakness. It’s his ruin, poor fellow! He’s so confoundedly in earnest at the game.” “He ought to know it by this time, if fame speaks true,” remarked Adrian. “He’s a baby about women, and always will be,” said Brayder. “He’s been once or twice wanting to marry them. Now there’s a woman—you’ve heard of Mrs. Mount? All the world knows her.—If that woman hadn’t scandalized.”—The young man joined them, and checked the communication. Brayder winked to Adrian, and pitifully indicated the presence of an innocent. “A married man, you know,” said Adrian. “Yes, yes!—we won’t shock him,” Brayder observed. He appeared to study the young man while they talked. Next morning Richard was surprised by a visit from his aunt. Mrs. Doria took a seat by his side and spoke as follows: