He thought now more of the respectability of his family than of the beauty of Kate O'Hara.
But still he meant to go,--certainly would go on this very day.

He had desired that his gig should be ready, and had sent word to say that he might start at any moment.

But still he sat in his dressing-gown at noon, unbraced, with a novel in his hand which he could not read, and a pipe by his side which he could not smoke.

Close to him on the table lay that record of the life of Captain O'Hara, which his aunt had sent him, every word of which he had now examined for the third or fourth time.

Of course he could not marry the girl.