Captain Murchison was, therefore, plutocrat on the father's side, aristocrat of aristocrat on the mother's. But he did not owe his popularity to these adventitious circumstances. The fact that he was the most popular man in his regiment was due to his own sterling qualities. In the first place, he was a man of the most unbounded generosity and the most serene good-humour. He had captained the Eleven at Eton, and he was one of the best shots, also one of the best polo-players, in England. Needless to say that he was a man's man. The fact that he was also equally a woman's man can be easily explained. He boasted more than ordinary good looks, and he had a charming, deferential way with women that captivated them at once. The Twenty-fifth had a very good time at Blankfield, on the whole. The houses of the "county" were, of course, open to such a distinguished regiment, but perhaps they had a rather jollier time amongst the rather limited circle of rich townsfolk whom they condescended to visit: the people who, at the best, had only a nodding acquaintance with the "county." Murchison was a born sportsman. Hunting, polo, shooting, cricket, occupied nearly all his waking thoughts, except those few that were claimed by his professional duties. Popular as he was with women, not a single member of the weaker and more charming sex had made any real impression on him up to the present. He had had several flirtations with charming girls, of course: he might have indulged in a few sentimental passages with certain more or less detached, or semi-detached, married women. The latter very rarely, for although by no means a saint he was a very clean-minded young man, and held rather rigid notions as to what might be done, and what ought not to be done. Anyway at this particular moment he was quite heart-whole. And then, one day, in this rather sleepy town of Blankfield, an adventure befell him. It was not strictly a common or garden adventure, for more than one reason. The woman, or rather girl, who was concerned in it, for looking at her in a severe light she did not appeal to be more than twenty, bore upon her no marks of the shameless adventuress. It was easy to see that she was not a member of his own world, the world of plutocracy mingled into aristocracy by judicious intermarriage. The "county" would not, of course, open their doors to her. According to her own account, the respectable "villadom" of the sleepy old town had not called upon her, on account of the absence of convincing credentials. The meeting happened in this way. Hugh found himself with a blank afternoon, an afternoon that had not been filled up. He could call at lots of houses and get tea. But, at this period, he was becoming a little fed-up with the Blankfield teas, the simpering girls, the astute mothers who wanted to take the heir of the Murchison millions off his guard, and hook him for a son-in-law.