“I have not changed my mind in any respect,” he said gently. “Perhaps you are inclined to take my altered circumstances into consideration--to modify your views.” “I am getting rather old for modification,” answered Sir John suavely. “And you see no reason for altering your decision?” “None.” “Then I am afraid we are no farther on.” He paused. “Good-night,” he added gently, as he opened the door. “Good-night.” CHAPTER XXXV. ENGAGED Well, there's the game. I throw the stakes. Lady Cantourne was sitting alone in her drawing-room, and the expression of her usually bright and smiling face betokened considerable perturbation. Truth to tell, there were not many things in life that had power to frighten her ladyship very much. Hers had been a prosperous life as prosperity is reckoned. She had married a rich man who had retained his riches while he lived and had left them to her when he died. And that was all the world knew of Lady Cantourne. Like the majority of us, she presented her character and not herself to her neighbours; and these held, as neighbours do, that the cheery, capable little woman of the world whom they met everywhere was Lady Cantourne. Circumstances alter us less than we think. If we are of a gay temperament--gay we shall be through all. If sombre, no happiness can drive that sombreness away. Lady Cantourne was meant for happiness and a joyous motherhood. She had had neither; but she went on being “meant” until the end--that is to say, she was still cheery and capable. She had thrown an open letter on the little table at her side--a letter from Jack Meredith announcing his return to England, and his natural desire to call and pay his respects in the course of the afternoon. “So,” she had said before she laid the letter aside, “he is home again--and he means to carry it through?” Then she had settled down to think, in her own comfortable chair (for if one may not be happy, comfort is at all events within the reach of some of us), and the troubled look had supervened. Each of our lives is like a book with one strong character moving through its pages. The strong character in Lady Cantourne's book had been Sir John Meredith. Her whole life seemed to have been spent on the outskirts of his--watching it. And what she had seen had not been conducive to her own happiness.