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life.’
    â€˜I’m well of age,’ said Ned sulkily.
    Watching him, Alan thought that Ned Hatton was strangely juvenile, for all that he had reached his mid-twenties.
    So, apparently, did his formidable great-aunt.
    â€˜You must remember, Ned, that you are dependent upon Sir Hartley for your income—and that you do little in return for it. You make no attempt to begin to learn the management of the estate which you will one day inherit. Besides, if you are living in my home you must respect my wishes. No, I propose that you ask Mr Dilhorne to dine with us instead. Should you like that, Mr Dilhorne?’
    Alan looked from Ned’s scarlet and embarrassed face to Almeria Stanton, so serene and sure of herself.
    â€˜If Ned does not mind forgoing our entertainment this evening—and I’m sure that Cremorne Gardens will be there for another time—I should be honoured to dine with you. Although, as you see, I am not properly dressed for it.’
    â€˜No matter. I will ring for Staines and tell him to see that another place is laid at table.’
    Having done so, she sat down and began to draw out this young man who so improbably possessed her nephew’s face.
    â€˜Since Ned has been as mannerless as usual and has failed to introduce us, I must introduce myself. I am Almeria, Lady Stanton, Ned and Eleanor’s great-aunt, and you, I believe, are Mr Alan Dilhorne. I seem to remember, from my childhood in Yorkshire, that it is a surname commonly found there, but I have not come across it in the south.’
    â€˜It is not common where I come from, either,’ Alan told her. ‘I have no knowledge of any relatives of that name in England.’
    â€˜I presume that you are in England on pleasure, then?’
    â€˜Not at all,’ said Alan. He was beginning to admire this forthright old lady. He thought that Eleanor Hatton might grow to be like her in time. ‘I am here on two pieces of business. My first relates to the London branch of the family firm.’
    Ned was struck by this. ‘Of course, Dilhorne and Sons! What a forgetful ass I am. My friend, George Johnstone, is manager there.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Alan with a small smile. ‘I know.’ He thought that the friendship revealed a great deal about Johnstone.
    Almeria Stanton knew that one should not ask someone from New South Wales about his family’s origins, but she cared little for society’s rules and regulations. Besides, the resemblance was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable, and the more she could discover about this self-controlled young man—so unlike Ned in that—the better.
    â€˜You must be a member of the Dilhorne family which, I understand from my brother-in-law, who is at the Board of Trade, runs something of an empire in Sydney and district. Pray where did your father originate from, Mr Dilhorne?’
    Alan was amused, although he could see that Miss Eleanor was shocked by her great-aunt’s bluntness. The people whom he had met so far had danced around the tricky subject of his origins. He decided to give the straightforward old woman a straightforward answer, however much it might shock her or his hearers.
    After all, the Patriarch had never repudiated his origins, nor sought to hide the fact that he had arrived in chains. He was always frank about his past, being neither proud nor ashamed of it.
    â€˜I believe my father lived in London before he was transported to New South Wales.’
    It was as much of the truth as he was prepared to give. Later, he was to be grateful for this early reticence.
    Eleanor’s face was shocked when her unfortunate gaffe about chains came back to haunt her. Ned would have guffawed had Alan made his answer in male company, but being in his great-aunt’s presence always made his behaviour a trifle more reticent than was habitual with him.
    For her part, Almeria Stanton was cool. ‘I collect that he was the architect