Frank Derison looked forward to the arrival of his cousin with much disfavor. Under any circumstances it would have seemed to him bad enough that his future should be cut-and-dried for him as if he were still a child in leading-strings, and that a bride should be thrust on him without as much as a "by your leave," but, as the case stood, it was rendered still more obnoxious by the fact that Fate had chosen for him a wife for whom he could never feel even that tepid amount of affection which seems to be found an amply sufficient capital in the majority of matrimonial ventures. As a cousin Miss Dixon might be everything one could wish, but as a wife he felt that before long he should positively hate her. Frank's affections, fleeting and shallow as they were, could only be captured by youth and good looks, and unfortunately Miss Dixon could boast of neither. When he compared her in his thoughts with sweet Hermia Rivers, and called to mind all that he had flung away, his heart grew very bitter within him, and he often felt that he would gladly cast behind him all his chances of worldly advancement if, by so doing, he could bring back those pleasant evenings of six months ago when he was a welcome visitant at Nairn Cottage, and when Hermia ever greeted his coming with a smile, the like of which for him the world did not hold. Oh, fool--fool that he had been!

But Frank was a man of many moods, and there were times when the cold whispers of worldly prudence fell soothingly on his ear. Twenty thousand pounds! It was a large sum, but, large as it was, it was only intended by those who had taken his future into their charge as the stepping-stone to something larger still. He was as fully assured as if his mother had told him in so many words, that his marriage with Miss Dixon was looked upon as a necessary condition, and that, unless he acceded to it, he need look for no further advancement at the Bank. The price demanded was a heavy one, or so it seemed to him. He knew fully a dozen girls, any one of whom (his lingering love for Hermia notwithstanding) he would willingly have married, even with half of twenty thousand pounds for a dowry. But Mildred Dixon, with her six years' seniority, her freckles, her spectacles, and her squat figure! Poor Frank could not help feeling that fate was treating him very hardly indeed.

But there came a reprieve for him almost at the last moment. A couple of days before Miss Dixon was due to arrive, Mrs. Derison received a note from her in which she stated that, owing to her mother having been suddenly attacked with illness, her visit would have to be deferred. Frank's spirits rose as if by magic.

"Her visit is only put off for a little while," said Mrs. Derison coldly, as she refolded the note after reading it aloud. "Nothing is altered."

But a respite is a respite all the world over, and Frank's was one of those mercurial natures which, while they are easily depressed, are just as easily elated, and have no inclination to meet trouble half way. He wished old Mrs. Dixon no harm; still, if her illness should prove to be a lingering one, any profession of sorrow on his part would be the merest hypocrisy.

"You never seem to take into account the fact that Mildred might not care to accept my humble and unworthy self as a partner for life," he said, with a quizzical smile, to his mother.

"Mildred is a sensible young woman, and knows what is expected of her," was the only reply vouchsafed him.

When Mr. Avison gave Frank plainly to understand that he must turn over a fresh leaf, and cease frequenting the billiard-room of the "Crown and Cushion," and such-like places, he at the same time intimated to him that for some time past his movements after office hours had been watched by a person who had been employed for that purpose, and it was the fear lest this secret spy might still be similarly engaged that kept his footsteps so straight from that time forward. He had insensibly got into the habit of spending so many of his spare hours in the billiard-room that he was at a loss how to get through his evenings with satisfaction to himself now that he no longer dared be seen there. Now that his fortunes at the Bank were rising so rapidly, he began to have plenty of invitations to the houses of well-to-do people, where he met a sufficiency of pleasant society of both sexes, but where everything was conducted with an amount of propriety and decorum which to Frank became at times absolutely depressing. He hated negus and sandwiches, and having to invent polite nothings for the benefit of a pack of scandal-loving dowagers. He hated having to dance attendance on a crowd of girls, for not one of whom he cared a jot. He was a man who loved men's society, but men out of their evening clothes. He liked the freedom and abandon of the smoking-room and the tavern parlor. His pipe was dear to him, and already he had a taste for cold grog, which in the course of time might develop into a confirmed habit. Thus it will be readily understood that to Frank Derison, life of late had seemed a somewhat tame affair.

It was just about this time that he made the acquaintance of a young fellow of his own age of the name of Crofts, who was in business with his father as a solicitor at Dulminster. Mr. Crofts was engaged to an Ashdown young lady, and used to go over two or three times a week to see her, and enjoy himself generally at this party, or the other dance.

"Beastly poky little hole, Ashdown," said Mr. Crofts one evening, as he and Frank were indulging in a cigarette in the balcony of a house where they had happened to meet. "Dulminster is bad enough in all conscience, but this place is a dozen times worse."

"What can a fellow do when hard necessity ties one to it?"

"What, indeed! You haven't even a club in the place, I presume?"

"Not the ghost of one."

"Why don't you join ours at Dulminster? Very small and select, and all that. Say the word, and I'll propose you at the next meeting."

"Awfully good of you, but this is the first word I've heard about it."

"Why not run over by the five-thirty train on Friday next, and pick a bit of dinner with me? We'll go on to the club afterwards, where I'll introduce you to half a score 'Bons Frères'--that's what we call ourselves--jolly good fellows one and all!"

The invitation so frankly given was as frankly accepted. Frank was introduced to the Club in due course, and was presently proposed and elected.

Mr. Crofts had spoken no more than the t............