To speak the truth, he thought more about the bouquet
than the settlements.
He arrived in London on the first of June, and went to see his family
lawyer, a certain Mr. Borley, who had been solicitor to the trust
during his minority.
"Bless me, Heigham, how like your father you have grown!" said that
legal gentleman, as soon as Arthur was ensconced in the client's chair
--a chair that, had it been endowed with the gift of speech, could
have told some surprising stories. "It seems only the other day that
he was sitting there dictating the terms of his will, and yet that was
before the Crimean war, more than twenty years ago. Well, my boy, what
is it?"
Arthur, thus encouraged, entered into a rather blundering recital of
the circumstances of his engagement.
Mr. Borley did not say much, but, from his manner and occasional
comments, it was evident that he considered the whole story very odd--
regarding it, indeed, with some suspicion.
"I must tell you frankly, Mr. Heigham," he said, at last, "I don't
quite understand this business. The young lady, no doubt, is charming
--young ladies, looking at them from my clients' point of view, always
are--but I can't say I like your story about her father.
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