‘You have met my nephew Reginald this morning, General?’

’Curiously, in the park, this morning, before breakfast, I did, yes.  Hem!  I, I say I did meet him.  Has your ladyship seen him?’

‘No.  The park is very pretty in the early morning.’

‘Sweetly pretty.’

Lady Camper raised her head, and with the mildness of assured dictatorship, pronounced:  ‘Never say that before me.’

‘I submit, my lady,’ said the poor scourged man.

’Why, naturally you do.  Vulgar phrases have to be endured, except when our intimates are guilty, and then we are not merely offended, we are compromised by them.  You are still of the mind in which you left me yesterday?  You are one day older.  But I warn you, so am I.’

’Yes, my lady, we cannot, I say we cannot check time.  Decidedly of the same mind.  Quite so.’

’Oblige me by never saying “Quite so.”  My lawyer says it.  It reeks of the City of London.  And do not look so miserable.’

‘I, madam? my dear lady!’ the General flashed out in a radiance that dulled instantly.

‘Well,’ said she cheerfully, ‘and you’re for the old woman?’

‘For Lady Camper.’

’You are seductive in your flatteries, General.  Well, then, we have to speak of business.’

‘My affairs——­’ General Ople was beginning, with perturbed forehead; but Lady Camper held up her finger.

’We will touch on your affairs incidentally.  Now listen to me, and do not exclaim until I have finished.  You know that these two young ones have been whispering over the wall for some months.  They have been meeting on the river and in the park habitually, apparently with your consent.’

‘My lady!’

‘I did not say with your connivance.’

‘You mean my daughter Elizabeth?’

’And my nephew Reginald.  We have named them, if that advances us.  Now, the end of such meetings is marriage, and the sooner the better, if they are to continue.  I would rather they should not; I do not hold it good for young soldiers to marry.  But if they do, it is very certain that their pay will not support a family; and in a marriage of two healthy young people, we have to assume the existence of the family.  You have allowed matters to go so far that the boy is hot in love; I suppose the girl is, too.  She is a nice girl.  I do not object to her personally.  But I insist that a settlement be made on her before I give my nephew one penny.  Hear me out, for I am not fond of business, and shall be glad to have done with these explanations.  Reginald has nothing of his own.  He is my sister’s son, and I loved her, and rather like the boy.  He has at present four hundred a year from me.  I will double it, on the condition that you at once make over ten thousand—­not less; and let it be yes or no!—­to be settled on your daughter and go to her children, independent of the husband—­cela va sans dire.  Now you may speak, General.’