They're the last two people in the world to get on well together." Lord St.John looked out across the sea, his shoulders a little stooped, his hands clasped behind his back.

No one regretted Nan's precipitate engagement more than he, but he recognised that little good could be accomplished by interference.

Moreover, to his scrupulous, old-world sense of honour, a promise, once given, was not to be broken at will.
"I'm afraid, my dear," he said at last, turning back to Kitty, "I'm afraid we've reached a _cul-de-sac_." His tones were despondent, and Kitty's spirits sank a degree lower.

She looked at him bleakly, and he returned her glance with one equally bleak.
Then, into this dejected council of two--cheerful, decided, and aboundingly energetic swept Aunt Eliza.
"Good afternoon, my dear," she said, making a peck at Kitty's cheek.
"That flunkey, idling his life away on the hall mat, said I should find you here, so I saved him from overwork by showing myself in.

How are you, St.John?
You're looking a bit peaky this afternoon, aren't you ?" "It's old age beginning to tell," laughed Lord St.John, shaking hands.
"Old age ?--Fiddlesticks!" Eliza fumed contemptuously.