‘On the spot. She denied nothing. Rather led the attack. One has but a poor vengeance with women, Crosby; but at all events she knows what I think of her. Of course there is an end to all pretence of friendship with her in the future, and I am glad of it.’ ‘I hope you didn’t say too much,’ says Crosby, rather taken aback by the sullen rage on the other’s brow. ‘How could I do that? If it had been a man——’ ‘She might well congratulate herself that she isn’t, if she could only see your eyes at this moment,’ says Crosby, laughing in spite of himself. ‘But she’ll make mischief out of this, Paul, I’m afraid.’ He is silent a moment, and then: ‘Your uncle is still bent, I suppose, on your marriage with her daughter?’ ‘Yes, rather a bore,’ says Wyndham, frowning. ‘I don’t like to disappoint the old man.’ ‘You mean?’ ‘That I should not marry Josephine Prior if my accession to a throne depended upon it.’ ‘So bad as that?’ ‘Is what so bad as that?’—struck by a meaning in the other’s tone. ‘Why, your infatuation for your tenant.’ ‘My——Oh, of course I might have known you would come to look at it like that,’ says Wyndham, shrugging his shoulders. With another man he might have been offended. But it is hard to be offended with Crosby. ‘Still, you are a sort of fellow one might trust to take a broader view of things.’ ‘What broader do you want me to take?’ begins Crosby, slightly amused. ‘But to get back to our argument—mine, rather. I think it will be bad for you if you quarrel with Shangarry over this matter. The title, of course, must be yours—but barren honours are hardly worth getting. And he may leave his money away from you. You have told me before this that he has immense sums in his hands to dispose of—and much of the property is not entailed. You should think, Paul—you should think.’ He was the last man in the world to think himself on such an occasion as this. ‘I have thought.’ ‘You mean?’ ‘I don’t know what I mean,’ says Wyndham; then, with sudden impatience: ‘Is love necessary to marriage?’ Crosby laughs. ‘Is marriage necessary at all?’ says he. ‘Why not elect to do as I do, live and die a jolly old bachelor?’ ‘Ah! I don’t believe in you,’ says Paul, with a rather mirthless smile. ‘If I went in for that state of life, depending on you as a companion, I should find myself left—sooner or later.’ ‘Well, then,’ says Crosby, who has no prejudices, ‘why not marry her?’ ‘Her?’ ‘Your tenant—this charming, unhappy, pretty girl, who, believe me, Wyndham’—growing suddenly grave—‘I regard as much as you do with the very deepest respect.’ Crosby has his charm.