"You have treated me as more than a son!" Lord Maxwell pressed his arm affectionately.
"My dear boy! But don't keep me on tenterhooks like this--tell me the name!--the name!" And two or three long meditated possibilities flashed through the old man's mind.
Aldous replied with a certain slow stiffness-- "Marcella Boyce!--Richard Boyce's daughter.

I saw her first six weeks ago." "God bless my soul!" exclaimed Lord Maxwell, falling back a step or two, and staring at his companion.

Aldous watched him with anxiety.
"You know that fellow's history, Aldous ?" "Richard Boyce?
Not in detail.

If you will tell me now all you know, it will be a help.

Of course, I see that you and the neighbourhood mean to cut him,--and--for the sake of--of Miss Boyce and her mother, I should be glad to find a way out." "Good heavens!" said Lord Maxwell, beginning to pace the room, hands pressed behind him, head bent.