His name is Arranstoun, and he is indigenous to this Castle, and really an aristocrat who papa and mamma would have approved of, although he unfortunately has no title----" "I had to put in that, you see," and she looked up explainingly, "because it sounds so ordinary if he'd never heard of Arranstoun--we wouldn't have, only Uncle Mortimer was looking out for old ruins to visit--well," and she continued her recital, while Michael lowered his head to hide the smile in his eyes.
"We wish to get married on Thursday so please be quick about the consent, as Uncle Mortimer wants me to marry his nephew, Samuel Greenbank, who I hate.

Agree, sir, the expression of my sentiments, the most distinguished "Sabine Delburg." "P.S.

I will want all my money, 50,000 dollars a year I believe it is, on Friday morning." Then she looked up with pride.
"Don't you think that will do ?" Michael was overcome--his voice shook with enchanted mirth.
"Admirably," he assured her, with what solemnity he could.
Sabine seemed thoroughly satisfied with herself.
"That's all right, then.

Now I must be off, or they will be coming to look for me, and that would be a bore." "But we have not made all the arrangements for our wedding." The prospective bridegroom thought it prudent to remind her.

"When can you come on Thursday?
My train gets in about six." "Thursday," and she contracted her dark eyebrows.