"
"Thank you, George," said the admiral, bluntly. "I expected as much from
you, and you have not disappointed me.--If Miss Brock doesn't get us out
of this mess," thought the wily old gentleman, as he resumed his place
at the table, "my nephew's weather-cock of a head has turned steady with
a vengeance!--We'll consider the question settled for to-night, George,"
he continued, aloud, "and call another subject. These family anxieties
don't improve the flavor of my old claret. The bottle stands with you.
What are they doing at the theaters in London? We always patronized the
theaters, in my time, in the Navy. We used to like a good tragedy
to begin with, and a hornpipe to cheer us up at the end of the
entertainment."
For the rest of the evening, the talk flowed in the ordinary channels.
Admiral Bartram only returned to the forbidden subject when he and his
nephew parted for the night.
"You won't forget to-morrow, George?"
"Certainly not, sir. I'll take the dog-cart, and drive myself over after
breakfast."
Before noon the next day Mr. George Bartram had left the house, and the
last chance in Magdalen's favor had left it with him.
CHAPTER IV.
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