window. "Ought to have buried the hatchet long ago. Been so busy—but I'll change all that I'll run over and see him first chance I get—and I'll write to him to-day."
"Good. Great to see you again, George. Heard you'd shuffled off."
"Not much. Alive and well in Chicago. Great to see you."
"Suppose you know about the wedding?"
"Yes. Fine girl, too. Had a waiter point her out to me at breakfast—rather rude, but I was in a hurry to see her. Er—pretty far gone and all that, Allan?"
"Pretty far gone."
"That's the eye. I was afraid it might be a financial proposition until I saw the girl."
Allan shifted nervously.
"Ah—er—of course, you're Lord Harrowby," he said.
George Harrowby threw back his head and laughed his hearty pleasant laugh.
"Sit down, kid," he said. And the scion of nobility, thus informally addressed, sat.
"I thought you'd come at me with the title,"
