'All the same, my guardian is going to be terribly angry when I tell him we're engaged.'
'Why?'
'I inherited the Purdue millions when my uncle died, you see, and my guardian has always wanted me to marry his son, Percy.'
Wilfred kissed her fondly, and laughed a defiant laugh.
'Jer mong feesh der selar,' he said lightly.
But, some days after his return to London, whither the girl had preceded him, he had occasion to recall her words. As he sat in his study, musing on a preparation to cure the pip in canaries, a card was brought to him.
'Sir Jasper ffinch-ffarrowmere, Bart.,' he read. The name was strange to him.
'Show the gentleman in,' he said. And presently there entered a very stout man with a broad, pink face. It was a face whose natural expression should, Wilfred felt, have been jovial, but at the moment it was grave.
'Sir Jasper Finch-Farrowmere?' said Wilfred.
'ffinch-ffarrowmere,' corrected the visitor, his sensitive ear detecting the capital letters.