We are not what the world calls friends; but we are as good and true and loving friends for all that, as nine out of every ten of those on whom it bestows the title.

You have a niece, and I a son--a fine lad, Haredale, but foolish.

They fall in love with each other, and form what this same world calls an attachment; meaning a something fanciful and false like the rest, which, if it took its own free time, would break like any other bubble.

But it may not have its own free time--will not, if they are left alone--and the question is, shall we two, because society calls us enemies, stand aloof, and let them rush into each other's arms, when, by approaching each other sensibly, as we do now, we can prevent it, and part them ?' 'I love my niece,' said Mr Haredale, after a short silence.

'It may sound strangely in your ears; but I love her.' 'Strangely, my good fellow!' cried Mr Chester, lazily filling his glass again, and pulling out his toothpick.