“I apologize for being so badly constructed,” he murmured, “but I don’t take in halves. Will it do if I give somebody my visiting-card?” “I shall not go till you do, Victoria. I decline to leave you alone with Mr. Hammond again,” the marchioness said, spitefully. “Please don’t be impressive,” was Victoria’s unkind reply. Then, turning to Hammond and speaking rapidly, she went on: “I got that amusing note of yours. I came round to tell you that of course I quite understood that it was all a joke last night. We ought not to have said anything to my mother, because she is so easily taken in, and she believed we were quite serious. But I enjoyed the fun myself very much, and I mean to make Gerald awfully jealous about you when we are married.” The marchioness blinked her eyes as though a sword had flashed before them, as she saw herself thus shamefully discarded and her last hope gone by the board. As for Despencer, he regarded Victoria with the admiring glance of an artist for a brilliant piece of work, in a kind which he understands. Hammond bowed gratefully. “Lady Victoria, you can do anything you like with Mauleverer and me except make us quarrel.” The marchioness came to herself. “What do you mean by talking about marrying Gerald?” she demanded. “My dear mother, I suppose we must marry some time. We have been engaged long enough.” “Engaged!” the poor marchioness could only ejaculate. “Well, I thought everybody in London knew that,” said Victoria, calmly. “I am sure Mr. Hammond did.” “Excellent!” Despencer murmured to himself. “She has come off with flying colors.” “Engaged to a pauper!” the marchioness exclaimed, tragically. “And, pray, what do you propose to live on?” “Oh, that is quite settled,” her daughter answered. “I have arranged to open a milliner’s shop in Piccadilly.” “I thought everybody in London knew that,” remarked Despencer heartlessly. It was the stab of Brutus. The marchioness turned a look on the traitor that should have rooted him to the floor. “Mis-ter De-spencer!” “Yes, marchioness?” There had been a sound of wheels below. A carriage had driven up to the door. Captain Mauleverer had not been idle during the hour which had elapsed since his departure. Footsteps ascended the staircase; the door leading into an adjoining room was opened and shut. Then-- “_The Marquis of Severn!_” As the marquis entered the room which his wife and daughter were in already, Hammond took a step forward, looking very pale and determined. Lady Victoria drew quietly towards a window, followed by Despencer. The marchioness, standing in the centre of the room, addressed her husband: “George! Do you know what has happened?” The marquis, after his first momentary surprise at finding them there, had taken no notice of any one but Hammond, on whom his eyes were fixed with an expression of mingled reproach and excuse. The excuse Hammond thought he understood, but the reproach puzzled him.