We leave next week, and we shall not be back until the end of
April."
"Lucky man!" remarked the solicitor. "Well, when you return, don't
forget what I've said. Come back!--you'll not regret it. Come and settle
down. Bye-the-bye, you're not engaged, are you?"
"Engaged?" said Collingwood. "To what--to whom--what do you mean?"
"Engaged to be married," answered Eldrick coolly. "You're not? Good! If
you want a wife, there's Miss Mallathorpe. Nice, clever girl, my
boy--and no end of what Barford folk call brass. The very woman for
you."
"Do you Barford people ever think of anything else but what you call
brass?" asked Collingwood, laughing.
"Sometimes," replied Eldrick. "But it's generally of something that
nothing but brass can bring or produce. After all, a rich wife isn't a
despicable thing, nowadays. You've seen this young lady?"
"I've been there once," asserted Collingwood.
"Go again--before you leave," counselled Eldrick. "You're just the right
man. Listen to the counsels of the wise! And while you're in India,
think well over my other advice. I tell you there's a career for you,
here in the North, that you'd never get in town."
Collingwood left him and went out--to find a motorcar and drive off to
Normandale Grange, not because Eldrick had advised him to go, but
because of his promise to Harper and Nesta Mallathorpe.
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