"Not on my account," cried Miss Bathurst, hastily.
"I understand, your mother would not be pleased."
"Mr Pratt!" Peggy bit her lip. "Really, Mr Pratt!"
"My dear young lady," said Pratt, with a twinkle, "do you think that I flatter myself that a battered old man like myself is your choice? No, indeed; although your mother would have it so. Like draws to like, and if I can bring it about you shall be Mrs Raston."
"No chance of that," sighed Peggy. "Mr Raston is too poor!"
"Oh, no. He has three hundred a year of his own, and it is more than probable that when Mr Tempest dies, Mrs Gabriel will give him the living. Then why won't your mother consent?"
"She was not opposed to my engagement until—until—" Peggy hesitated.
"Until I arrived," finished Pratt. "Set your mind at rest, Miss Peggy; I am not a marrying man; I have seen too much of the world."
Peggy laughed and looked at him. His pleasant face was turned towards her, and she saw on his cheek a mark she had never noticed before. It was a tattooed star, very small and placed just under the jawbone. Unless looked for very closely it was apt to escape notice. But there it was, and being so close to the man, Peggy saw it very plainly. Perhaps she saw it the more clearly because Pratt held his head at a particular angle. He noticed the curiosity in her eyes, and flushed a trifle. He knew what she was looking at. "I had that done in the South Seas," said Pratt, rubbing the star; "foolish thing to have had done, but I was a reckless young sailor then. And see here, Miss Peggy," he rolled up his sleeve, that of the left arm. Immediately below the elbow there was a beautifully tattooed snake, half red and half blue. "That was done in Japan," he said.
"You seem to have been everywhere, Mr Pratt?"