As he did so his eyes were drawn to a letter from Herbert French lying on the table.

He took it up and read it again--smiling over it broadly, in a boyish and kindly amusement.

"By Jove! he's happy." Then as he put it down his face darkened.

There was something in the letter, in its manliness and humour, its unconscious revelation of ideals wholly independent of dollars, that made Roger for the moment loathe his own position.

But he pulled himself together.
"I shall make her a good husband," he repeated, frowning.