"Oh, in London, I believe," said Beaumont carelessly. "I knew him there five or six years ago. He was very fast in those days. Then he pulled up and reformed altogether. I am sorry to see him resuming his old habits." Mr. Beaumont did not think it necessary to explain how he had tempted the unhappy young man, so poor Nestley was blamed severely by both ladies for his evident tendency to fast living. "So dreadful," piped Miss Cassy, lifting up her hands. "I really cannot understand it, and the dear doctor was so nice. Really, it's very odd. Oh, are you going, Mr. Beaumont? So sorry--good-bye." Beaumont bowed to both the ladies and then left the room, quite satisfied with his interview. "I think I have fixed up everything satisfactorily," he muttered to himself, as he lighted a cigarette outside on the terrace. "If Patience only carries out her part of the affair as well as I have done mine, we'll soon put Reginald in possession of the property, and then--it's my turn." Miss Cassy watched him cross the terrace, and turned to Una with a look of admiration in her eyes. "What a handsome man Mr. Beaumont is--so distinguished?" she said volubly. "Quite like a Spanish what's-his-name, you know." "He's not bad-looking," replied Una absently, "but I prefer Reginald." "Mr. Blake?" said Miss Cassy, rather astonished to hear her niece speak of him in such a familiar way. Una saw that she had betrayed herself, so, going over to the elder lady, put her arms round her waist caressingly. "Auntie, you must have seen it all the time." "Seen what?" asked Miss Cassy, opening her eyes widely. "That I love Reginald." "Love Reginald Blake! Oh, my dear--how very odd." "I don't see it's odd at all," replied Una blushing, "we love one another very dearly." "But, my dear, he's nobody." "He's everybody--in my eyes," said Una fondly. "What would the Squire have said?" observed Miss Cassy in dismay. "Forbidden the marriage, I've no doubt," replied Una, "so that is why we kept our engagement quiet--but now we are free to marry." "Oh, Una, how heartless you are--so odd, and the poor Squire just dead." "My dear auntie," said Una gravely, "I am the last person in the world to speak ill of the dead, but I cannot feign a regret which I do not feel; the Squire asked us down here for his own gratification--not ours; we have lived on our own money, and not his; he has taken no notice of us at all--so neither you nor I can pretend to weep over the death of a man whom we hardly ever saw, and who certainly did nothing to deserve tears." "But still, he may have left you his fortune," urged Miss Cassy in a tearful voice. "I doubt it," replied Una with a sigh, "but fortune or no fortune, I cannot pretend to a grief I do not feel." "And you are quite determined to marry Reginald Blake?" "Quite--we love each other devotedly."