THIS BOOK OWES ITS INCEPTION, AND IS THEREFORE DEDICATED, TO A CIRCUMSTANCE OVER WHOM I HAVE NO CONTROL. R. C. F. Now it is obvious that in nine cases out of ten there is only one circumstance over whom a vigorous young man has no control, and this circumstance wears petticoats. Hitherto I had not seriously connected Robin with the tender passion, and this sudden intimation that the most serious-minded and ambitious of young men is not immune from the same rather startled me. The female members of my establishment were pleasantly fluttered, though they were concerned less with the lady's existence than with her identity. "Who do you think she is?" inquired Kitty of me, the first time the subject cropped up between us. "Don't know, I'm sure," I murmured. I was smoking my post-prandial cigar at the time, at peace with all the world. "Never had the privilege of seeing his visiting-list." "I wonder who she can be," continued my wife. "He--he hasn't said anything to you, has he, dear?" she inquired, in a tentative voice. I slowly opened one of my hitherto closed eyes, and cocked it suspiciously at the diplomatist sitting opposite to me. (The Twins and Robin were out at the theatre.) Then, observing that she was stealthily regarding me through her eyelashes--a detestable trick which some women have--I solemnly agitated my eyelid some three or four times and gently closed it again. "Has he confided any of his love affairs to you, I mean?" continued Kitty, quite unabashed. "If you eat any more chocolates you will make yourself sick," I observed. "Yes, dear," said my wife submissively, pushing away the bon-bon dish. "But has he?" "Are you trying to pump me?" "Oh, gracious, no! What would be the good? I only asked a plain question. You men are such creatures for screening each other, though, that it's never any use asking a man anything about another man." "True for you. As a matter of fact, Robin has hardly said a word to me on the subject of women since first I met him." Kitty thoughtfully cracked a filbert with her teeth--an unladylike habit about which I have often spoken to her--and said-- "What exciting chats you must have!" Then she added reflectively-- "I expect it's a girl in Scotland. A sort of Highland lassie, in a kilt, or whatever female Highlanders wear." "Why should a novel about the Stock Exchange 'owe its inception' to a Highland lassie?" Kitty took another filbert. "That's 'vurry bright' of you, Adrian, as that American girl used to say. There's something in that. (Yes, I know you don't like it, dear, but I love doing it. I'll pour you out another glass of port. There!) But any idiotic excuse is good enough for a man in love. Has he ever been sentimental with you--quoted poetry, or anything?" "N-no. Stop, though! He did once quote Burns to me, but that was _a propos_ of poetry in general, not of love-making."