'But it isn't fair, Mama!' said the Honourable Alicia furiously. 'Julian only met Harry for five minutes yesterday and—'

'Half an hour,' said Julian, sitting down on a sofa. 'Long enough to ascertain that, apart from his post as Sir John's secretary, he has no prospects.' He eyed the tabby cat seated on Serena's lap out of the corner of his eye. The blasted thing was convinced he adored cats. It couldn't have been more mistaken.

'Five minutes!' repeated Lissy, 'and poor Harry is declared unsuitable. Whatever that means!'

'Amongst other things, it means you'd run the fellow aground inside of a month,' said Julian, unmoved. 'Have sense, Lissy.'

The cat stretched, brilliant green eyes fixed on Julian.

Lissy glared. 'I would not!'

Serena chimed in. 'Lissy dear, I feel quite sure that charming and pleasant as Mr Daventry may—' She made a grab for the cat, but it was already flowing off her lap. 'Oh, dear. Now, where was I? Yes, Mr Daventry, I am sure he is not at all well off, so—'

'What does money matter? And anyway, he has an income!' protested Lissy.

'Two hundred a year?' Julian suppressed a snort. 'And, no, money doesn't matter. Just as long as you learn to manage without it. Otherwise you will find it matters a great deal when the bailiffs take your furniture and the landlord kicks you into the street.'

'Harry has his own house,' said Lissy. 'In Bristol. He told me.'

'A man of property, then,' said Julian.