It was only a question of time.

After all, a week was not long to grow accustomed to a perfect stranger.
Then they went back to the library, and smoked for an hour or so and continued their political chat; and at last Markrute said to his new nephew-in-law blandly, "In a year or so, when you and Zara have a son, I will give you, my dear boy, some papers to read which will interest you as showing the mother's side of his lineage.

It will be a fit balance, as far as actual blood goes, to your own." In a year or so, when Zara should have a son! Of all the aspects of the case, which her pride and disdain had robbed him of, this, Tristram felt, was perhaps--though it had not before presented itself to him--the most cruel.

He would have no son! He got up suddenly and threw his unfinished cigar into the grate--that old habit of his when he was moved--and he said in a voice that the financier knew was strained, "That is awfully good of you.

I shall have to have it inserted in the family tree--some day.