Brendon shook the old man's hand quietly, but without much enthusiasm. He could not conjecture what Derrington meant by behaving in a way so different to that he usually adopted. His host felt the slack hand-clasp, and winced on seeing the want of response in Brendon's face. Queerly enough Derrington, contrary to accepted opinion, had a heart, and was so much taken with George that he wished to draw him to himself. Still, he could not but admit that seeing how he had treated the young fellow in the past it was not to be expected that Brendon would act the part of an affectionate relative immediately. Derrington rather admired George for his uncompromising attitude. "Dinner will be ready soon," said the old lord, waving Brendon to a seat; "only our two selves. I wish to consult you." "Consult me?" George could not keep the astonishment out of his face. "It's rather late in the day, is it not?" remarked Derrington, dryly, "but you see I am old, George, and have not much time to spare. Yes, I wish you to consult with me after dinner about--but that can come in the course of our conversation. Meantime, let us talk of anything you like." "The weather, sir?" "No, confound you," snapped Derrington, with a flash of his old irritable self; "talk of wine, wit, and women if you like, but spare me platitudes." Brendon stared at his shoes and smiled under his mustache. "I do not think I can say anything very original about the subjects you mention," he said quietly. "Talk of Miss Ward, then. You can be original on that point." Brendon would rather not have mentioned Dorothy, but he was quite determined to show his grandfather that he fully intended to marry his lady-love, and that he was not afraid to speak his mind. "I do not fancy that there is anything particularly original in a love-story. I met Miss Ward some three years before, I have loved her ever since, and we will marry when----" "There, there," interrupted Derrington, waving his hand, "let us not get on to that subject as yet. We can talk of it after dinner. In fact, you may as well know that I asked you here to discuss your position. We must have an understanding." "I think you must intend it to be a pleasant one," said Brendon, "as you have asked me to dinner." "And to smoke the pipe of peace. There's the gong. Heigh-ho!"--he rose rather sluggishly--"gout is stiffening my limbs." It struck Brendon that his grandfather looked old and very haggard. He had lost his fresh color, his eyes were sunken, and the defiant curl was out of his enormous mustache. He moved slowly toward the door, and George felt sorry to see him so lonely. He knew that Derrington hated all his relatives, and that his relatives cordially hated him, so there was none to comfort the old man in his declining years. Walter Vane was less than nothing, as his mere presence served to irritate his grandfather.