For a moment Blagdon stared with stolid incredulity, then he hastily put down his cigar, for he had recognised Letty! A beautiful, self-possessed Letty, with an air of fragile grace, who, although laden with several parcels, carried herself like a queen; the girl, of bigger build, with clouds of hair and marvellous colouring, was his correspondent Cara,--she looked every day of twenty! He was actually gazing at his own wife and daughter--so were others; the pair had been accosted by friends, and stopped to talk, and this afforded the spectators an opportunity to admire. “By Jove, Englishwomen are hard to beat! I bet those two are English,” said his companion. “The elder is the best looking--a handsome woman. The young one seems full of go, and what teeth and colouring! But she hasn’t her sister’s figure.” Here indeed was an entirely different individual to the cowering Letty of fourteen years previously, and how well she had worn! Now she would shine in any company--his wife--yes, and his daughter. She, too, was ripping: so sure of herself; he watched her gay gestures and broad smiles, her well-cut frock, and neat figure--rather on the heavy side. What a complexion! By George, she’d make ’em all sit up! Yes, he decided to claim her--a handsome wife was one thing: a handsome daughter, reflected still more credit on a fellow. Cara was a Blagdon--his own flesh and blood, and he was sick of his old associates. “I say, Blagdon, you are not very gay; the after cure depressing? Eh?” “No, I’m all right,” with a shake of his great shoulders. “I’m just thinking of a good thing I’ve come in for.” Repton stared. Was old Blag off his chump? had he been drinking? “Oh, it’s only a filly of mine, a rare one, that will show ’em all the way,” and he chuckled to himself. “Ah, then, I’ll look to you for a tip!” Blagdon noted the break-up of the party, which concluded with cordial hand-shaking, and adieux. Subsequently mother and daughter walked away talking together eagerly--evidently the best of pals. He rose instantly, followed, and kept them in view. In the Swan Platz, opposite Cook’s, the two separated; Letty to cross the bridge, the girl to enter the Arcade: here he saw her disappear into a shop, and waited. As he waited, he meditated; he was full of impatience to claim this creditable daughter; in face her mother, in manner and figure a Blagdon. What--cold thought--would Connie say?--Con, more or less lived with, as well as on him. She had the Blagdon will, tongue, and temper. Well, from the girl’s air and off-hand manner, he expected she could hold her own; and by George, he had done a lot for Con, from first to last, and paid her debts over and over. It was time he did something for his only daughter,--who had not cost him a farthing since she cut her first teeth. As he conferred with himself, the girl came briskly out of the shop. He had been pretending to be looking into the window, and at once accosted her.