first time. Odd, for to the father lie seemed just like other young men. It seemed to him that there were so many more of the same pattern from whom she might have chosen. And many of them well off, too. However, the letter lay in the prosperous pocket-book in the breast of the father's frock-coat, and the Lover was received as though that letter were a charm to ensure success. A faulty, or at least a slow-working, charm, however, for the father did not lift a bag of gold from his safe and say: "Take her, take this also—be happy"—he only consented to a provisional engagement, took an earnest interest in the young man's affairs, and offered to make his daughter an annual allowance on her marriage.
"At my death she will have more," he said, "for, of course, I have insured my life. You, of course, will insure yours."
"Of course I will," the Lover echoed warmly; "does it matter what office?"
"Oh, any good office—the Influential, if you like. I'm a director, you know."
The young man made a reverent note of the name, and the interview seemed played out.
