‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. They cannot imagine the discomforts involved, and they see only mystery in your fight to recover your lost heritage. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. And for me there is only one treasure-house. I'll go alone.
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