"I'll trouble you for a pinch of that old snuff of yours, Pawle!" he said. "Um—dear me! What extraordinary moments we do pass through! Viner, my dear fellow, you're a book-collector, I know. To—er—pass the time, show me some of your treasures."
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, went by, while Viner showed some of his most treasured possessions in the way of print and binding to the two old lawyers. They were both past masters in the art of make-believe, and they contrived to show great interest in what was exhibited to them, but Viner knew very well that when Mr. Pawle was expatiating on the merits of an Elzevir or Mr. Carless on the beauties of a Grolier, they were really wondering what the two young people in the next room, so strangely thrown together, were saying to each other. And then, as he was about to unlock a cabinet, and bring out a collection of autograph letters, the door of the inner room was opened, and the two appeared on the threshold, one looking extremely confident, and the other full of blushes and surprise. And—they were holding each other's hands.
"Gentlemen—our very good friends," said Lord Ellingham, "it is only right that we should take you into our confidence at once. There will be no litigation, Mr. Carless—no difficulties, Mr. Pawle. I absolutely insist on resigning—what is not mine—to my cousin, the Countess of Ellingham. And—not in any return, gentlemen!—she has promised to give me something which I shall prize far more than any title or any estate—you understand? And now, if
