"Week or two," he answered airily.
"A week or two to see Colonel Munro!"
"Intricate business," he answered her, with a fresh salute.
"Poor old Charles Munro is a kind of relation of mine," she observed.
He eyed her with more surprise than passion.
"Oh! I didn't know that."
"I haven't written to him for years. I think I must send him a letter this week."
Mr. Walkingshaw realized that he was marrying brains as well as beauty. He also realized that Colonel Munro was now part of his London programme. However, on second thoughts, Charlie Munro was a dear old fellow, and very likely he'd have been looking him up in any case. His spirits bounded up again. In fact, why should they ever sink with such a fair creature by his side?
"Do, darling," he whispered.
She surrendered herself to his affection and sighed happily. Why should she feel disturbed with one of the most respectable of Writers to the Signet pledged to devote his declining years to her consolation?