"And the want of it's the whole tree," retorted Guy, laughing at his own mild witticism. "You see, my father hadn't much idea about things, and muddled a good deal, so the consequence is that there is a mortgage on the estate which I must pay off, so we'll have to live quietly for some years." "I'm sure I don't mind." "But I do. I'm not going to have you waste your sweetness on the desert air," replied Errington vehemently, "but at present I don't see how it can be helped. I need a large sum of ready money, but won't get it, unless--unless Aunt Jelly dies." "I don't think that probable," said Alizon lightly, "Miss Corbin looks strong enough to outlive Methusaleh." "And I daresay she will, the tough old party, but if she does die I'm sure to come in for her money unless she leaves it to Eustace." "Well, why shouldn't she?" "Because in the first place she doesn't like him as much as she does me, and in the second he's got lots of money already, and no wife to support." "Lucky man," observed Lady Errington mischievously. "Lucky woman to have escaped him, you mean," retorted Guy sagely; "he's the most exacting man you ever met." "I've never met him to speak to, but I do know him by sight." "And that's quite enough. He's such a fastidious chap--an angel out of Heaven wouldn't satisfy him." "Probably not. I don't think angels are desirable wives as a rule." "Oh, yes they are, dear," said Errington fondly, pausing near her, "you are an angel." "A very prosaic angel, I'm afraid." "Good enough for me anyhow." "Isn't that rather a doubtful compliment?" "Do you think so? Well, now I come to think of it, perhaps it is a little doubtful. But I haven't got the gift of tongues like Eustace; you should hear him talk, Alizon." "If his talk is like his books I don't think I shall like it." "Eh!--why not? I haven't read them, but I hear they're deuced clever." "Too much so, cynical and bitter." "That's just like his own character. Eustace is the most pessimistic man I know." "I'm certain I shall not like him," asserted Lady Errington calmly. Her husband chuckled a little before replying. "Don't be too sure of that. Eustace is a very fascinating sort of man." "More so than you?" "Oh, I'm not fascinating." "You're very modest, at all events." "Do you think so? Wait till you hear me tell shooting stories about my prowess." "Is that your special weakness?" "By no means--you are." "Thank you for a very pretty compliment, but I'm afraid this conversation is becoming frivolous," said Alizon, with a faint pink colour creeping into the pallor of her cheeks, "however, it's ended now, for here come your friends." "Better late than never," remarked Guy, turning round to salute his cousin, who advanced along the terrace, followed by Otterburn. "How do you do, Eustace?" "Quite well, thank you Guy," replied Eustace, gravely shaking hands. "This is Mr. Macjean--my cousin, Sir Guy Errington."