Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe regarded his niece with a portentous gathering of his bushy eyebrows. "I beg, Jane," he said, "that you will not decide this matter hastily. There are, in short, many reasons why you should marry, and I will not deny that I regard the present proposal as most opportune. I have, in short, given the Hon. Wipplinger Towle my full permission to pay his addresses to you. He dined with us this evening, and--er--expects, I believe, the opportunity of pleading his own cause." "Do you want me to go away, Uncle Robert?" faltered Jane, quite overcome. "Do you hate me, too?" "Certainly not--decidedly not, Jane. You--er--put the matter in most unwarranted terms. But I believe that you would be far happier in an establishment of your own. In fact, you have already intimated something of the sort in the course of our conversation. Am I not right?" "I said I should rather be a nursery governess," said Jane doggedly. "I can do that; I have taught Percy and Cecil ever since Miss Craddock went away, and----" Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe rose abruptly. "No, Jane--I beg-- Keep your seat, if you please. I will send Mr. Towle to you at once. You are, of course, at liberty to do as you wish in the matter. But as your eldest surviving male relative I most strongly advise that you listen to his suit patiently and give him the answer that he wishes and--er--expects." Jane stretched out her hands imploringly. "Dear Uncle Robert," she whispered; "please, Uncle Robert--just a minute!" But he was gone, and Jane sank back in her chair with a sob. "Oh, if he would only love me a little!" she thought. Then she sat up very straight and calm; somebody was approaching. The Hon. Wipplinger Towle was a tall man, even taller than Mr. Robert Aubrey-Blythe. He was also exceedingly lean, and bald--quite bald. Jane mechanically noted the dull pale glisten of his scalp as he crossed the wide expanse of Turkey carpet which intervened between herself and the curtained doorway. "Good evening, Mr. Towle," she said calmly, offering the tips of her chilly little fingers with extreme nonchalance. The Honorable Wipplinger was evidently somewhat agitated in a perfunctory, elderly way. That he was likewise perfectly confident as to the outcome of the interview Jane thought she perceived, with an involuntary deepening of the dimple at the corner of her mouth. "Hum--ah," he began, fixing his glass firmly in place. "You were not dining at home this evening, Miss Blythe? I was--er--frightfully disappointed, upon my word; I had been--ah--led to expect--ah--that is, I hoped that I should see you earlier in the evening."