I have never got on particularly well with the other sex, partly, I suppose, from my manners, which, to say the least, are not attractive, and partly to the fact that up to the time I met Marie Dalmayne I have never cared for a woman.  I came across the girl that I have grown to love so well in this fashion.  I am interested in a West Australian mine to the extent of about a hundred thousand pounds, and am one of the three partners who control the concern.  One of them is a member of the great City house of Bleichopsheim, and the other is Mr. Ross, a wealthy iron-master.  It was at the latter’s house in St. James’s Square that I met my fate.

I took Miss Dalmayne down to dinner, and I think that my heart went out to her from the first.  I found her clever and sensible, and with apparently little of the frivolity which characterises most of the young women with whom I have been brought in contact.  Her conversation, if not absolutely brilliant, was at any rate bright and amusing, and possessed a considerable amount of shrewdness.

Miss Dalmayne was about twenty-three, tall and fair,’ possessing a perfect figure and the most beautiful and expressive hazel eyes.  Her hair was nut brown with a warm reddish sun-kissed glint, and her features were regular and aristocratic.  Her smile was delightful.  In short, I fell in love.

Next morning I ascertained from Adam Ross full particulars in reference to Miss Dalmayne.  She is the only daughter of the Honourable George Dalmayne, and is related to many of the highest English families.  Mr. Dalmayne and his wife are not well off, and the former is very much in debt and has taxed the generosity of my friend Ross to a very considerable extent.  The Dalmaynes live in a small house in Eaton Terrace.  They have only one other child, and that is a son who is in the Army and is at present with his regiment in India.

There are some people that one feels one can confide in in matters of a delicate nature, and there are others to whom one could never open one’s mouth.  Now, Ross and I have been friends for ten years, during which time we have never had the least difference.  He is a man absolutely to be trusted.  I told him during this interview what a deep impression Miss Dalmayne had made upon me.  He said that he did not in the least wonder at it, for she was greatly admired, and added that if it were not for her father she would no doubt have made a brilliant marriage already.  I told my friend that I cared nothing about her father, that I was not marrying him but his daughter—­that is to say, if I were fortunate enough to induce her to become my wife.

“I don’t think that there is much fear of a failure,” answered Ross, “old Dalmayne is looking out for a rich husband for Marie.  Indeed, in a confidential mood one day recently he told me almost as much himself.  And he is not likely in a hurry to find one so rich as yourself.”

“Well, I shall call upon him to-morrow,” said I, “and ask his permission to speak to his daughter.”