The client’s inevitable answer seemed to perch on the girl’s lips: “A thousand pounds.” But it came out in another, in a much more charming form. “I mean that I love him.” The family solicitor got up: it was a high figure. “And does he love _you_?” Cora hesitated. “Ask _him_.” Mrs. Gracedew weighed the necessity. “Where is he?” “Waiting.” And the girl’s glance, removed from her companion and wandering aloft and through space, gave the scale of his patience. Her adviser, however, required the detail. “But _where_?” Cora briefly demurred again. “In that funny old grotto.” Mrs. Gracedew thought. “Funny?” “Half-way from the park gate. It’s very _nice_!” Cora more eagerly added. Mrs. Gracedew continued to reflect. “Oh, I know it!” She spoke as if she had known it most of her life. Her tone encouraged her client. “Then will you see him?” “No.” This time it was almost dry. “No?” “No. If you want help----” Mrs. Gracedew, still musing, explained. “Yes?” “Well--you want a great deal.” “Oh, so much!”--Cora but too woefully took it in. “I want,” she quavered, “all there is!” “Well--you shall have it.” “All there is?”--she convulsively held her to it. Mrs. Gracedew had finally mastered it. “I’ll see your father.” “You dear, delicious lady!” Her young friend had again encompassed her; but, passive and preoccupied, she showed some of the chill of apprehension. It was indeed as if to meet this that Cora went earnestly on: “He’s intensely sympathetic!” “Your father?” Mrs. Gracedew had her reserves. “Oh, no--the other person. I so believe in him!” Cora cried. Mrs. Gracedew looked at her a moment. “Then so do I--and I like him for believing in _you_.” “Oh, he does that,” the girl hurried on, “far more than Captain Yule--I could see just with one glance that _he_ doesn’t at all. Papa has of course seen the young man I mean, but we’ve been so sure papa would hate it that we’ve had to be awfully careful. He’s the son of the richest man at Bellborough, he’s Granny’s godson, and he’ll inherit his father’s business, which is simply immense. Oh, from the point of view of the things he’s _in_”--and Cora found herself sharp on this--“he’s quite as good as papa himself. He has been away for three days, and if he met me at the station, where, on his way back, he has to change, it was by the merest chance in the world. I wouldn’t love him,” she brilliantly wound up, “if he wasn’t nice.” “A man’s always nice if you _will_ love him!” Mrs. Gracedew laughed. Her young friend more than met it. “He’s nicer still if he ‘will’ love _you_!” But Mrs. Gracedew kept her head. “Nicer of course than if he won’t! But are you sure this gentleman _does_ love you?” “As sure as that the other one doesn’t.” “Ah, but the other one doesn’t know you.” “Yes, thank goodness--and never shall!” Mrs. Gracedew watched her a little, but on the girl’s meeting her eyes turned away with a quick laugh. “You mean of course till it’s too late.”