Mercantile as Americans were proclaimed to be, the opinion of Sir Nigel Anstruthers wasthat they were, on some points, singularly unbusinesslike. In the perfectly obvious andsimple matter of the settlement of his daughter's fortune, he had felt that ReubenVanderpoel was obtuse to the point of idiocy. He seemed to have none of the ordinarypoints of view. Naturally there was to Anstruthers' mind but one point of view to take. Aman of birth and rank, he argued, does not career across the Atlantic to marry a New Yorkmillionaire's daughter unless he anticipates deriving some advantage from the alliance.Such a man-being of Anstruthers' type-would not have married a rich woman even inhis own country with out making sure that advantages were to accrue to himself as a resultof the union. "In England," to use his own words, "there was no nonsense about it."Women's fortunes as well as themselves belonged to their husbands, and a man who wasmaster in his own house could make his wife do as he chose. He had seen girls with moneymanaged very satisfactorily by fellows who held a tight rein, and were not moved by tears, and did not allow talking to relations. If he had been desirous of marrying and could haveafforded to take a penniless wife, there were hundreds of portionless girls ready to thankGod for a decent chance to settle themselves for life, and one need not stir out of one'snative land to find them.But Sir Nigel had not in the least desired to saddle himself with a domestic encumbrance, in fact nothing would have induced him to consider the step if he had not been driven hardby circumstances. His fortunes had reached a stage where money must be forthcomingsomehow-from somewhere. He and his mother had been living from hand to mouth, so tospeak, for years, and they had also been obliged to keep up appearances, which issometimes embittering even to persons of amiable tempers. Lady Anstruthers, it is true, had lived in the country in as niggardly a manner as possible. She had narrowed herexistence to absolute privation, presenting at the same time a stern, bold front to thepersons who saw her, to the insufficient staff of servants, to the village to the vicar and hiswife, and the few far-distant neighbours who perhaps once a year drove miles to call orleave a card. She was an old woman sufficiently unattractive to find no difficulty in the wayof limiting her acquaintances. The unprepossessing wardrobe she had gathered in thepassing years was remade again and again by the village dressmaker. She wore dingy oldsilk gowns and appalling bonnets, and mantles dripping with rusty fringes and bugle beads, but these mitigated not in the least the unflinching arrogance of her bearing, or the simple, intolerant rudeness which she considered proper and becoming in persons like herself. Shedid not of course allow that there existed many persons like herself.