The letter came to Harry Alford, Earl of Chelford, with two or three other personal letters; his main correspondence was with London booksellers, for he was a restless collector of ancient tomes. He looked at the letter, recognising the handwriting, frowned and turned it over. Then, with some evidence of annoyance, he slit the flap.

Dear Harry,

I have thought for a long time that we have so little in common that a marriage between us could not possibly lead to happiness for either of us. I suppose the correct thing to do would be to send back my engagement ring, but fortunately, or unfortunately, you forgot to present me with this token! I wish you every happiness, and I hope that we shall still be good friends.

Harry read the letter, rubbed his forehead in perplexity, then, rising from his chair, almost ran from the library. Dick was on the lawn, playing with his dog, when his brother burst into the little study.

“I say, look at this! What do you think of it?”

Dick read the letter with a troubled face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry!” said Harry shrilly. “It’s disgraceful! I shall look a perfect fool! Leslie’s treated me very badly indeed – but that reference to the engagement ring is in shocking bad taste.”

“I thought you’d given her one,” said the patient Dick. “Didn’t you?”

“It is a barbarous and stupid practice. I never dreamt of giving her a ring. Why should I? She had a ring, a beautiful one. You must have seen it – a diamond that she always wears. What is the sense of it? The reference is in very bad taste – shocking!”

And yet, in spite of his agitation and anger, Dick thought he detected relief in his brother’s voice. But his vanity had been hurt, and that is a sore place with many men of greater calibre than Lord Chelford.

“Without any warning. She was here yesterday, but said not a word about it!”

“You hardly gave her a chance,” said Dick. “You scarcely spoke to her, and really, Harry, you took no trouble to entertain her. Be reasonable.”

Harry fondled his chin and glared through the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed spectacles.

“I suppose not,” he said, with sudden mildness. “But really, I’m not a marrying man. I want no more than my books and my mission. But I’m going to look a fool over this business, Dick.” His anger was rising again. “Everybody in the county knows we’re engaged, and they’ll come prying around to discover what is wrong. We shall have those beastly newspaper men sitting on the front step, and that is more than I can endure!”

“Then let them come to me,” said Dick. “I’ll give them all the explanation they need, and they’ll be sorry they asked. As for newspaper men, I eat ’em alive!”

Still his brother was not wholly mollified.