d reverted to Mrs. Mount, and the strange bits of the
conversation he had heard on the hill. He was not one to suspect anybody
positively. He was timid of fixing a suspicion. It hovered indefinitely,
and clouded people, without stirring him to any resolve. Still the
attentions of the lady toward Richard were queer. He endeavoured to
imagine they were in the nature of things, because Richard was so
handsome that any woman must take to him. "But he's married," said
Ripton, "and he mustn't go near these people if he's married." Not a high
morality, perhaps better than none at all: better for the world were it
practised more. He thought of Richard along with that sparkling dame,
alone with her. The adorable beauty of his dear bride, her pure heavenly
face, swam before him. Thinking of her, he lost sight of the mignonne who
had made him giddy.

He walked to Richard's hotel, and up and down the street there, hoping
every minute to hear his step; sometimes fancying he might have returned
and gone to bed. Two o'clock struck. Ripton could not go away. He was
sure he should not sleep if he did. At last the cold sent him homeward,
and leaving the street, on the moonlight side of Piccadilly he met his
friend patrolling with his head up and that swing of the feet proper to
men who are chanting verses.

"Old Rip!" cried Richard, cheerily. "What on earth are you doing here at
this hour of the morning?"

Ripton muttered of his pleasure at meeting him. "I wanted to shake your
hand before I went home."

Richard smiled on him in an amused kindly way. "That all? You may shake
my hand any day, like a true man as you are, old Rip! I've been speaking
about you. Do you know, that--Mrs. Mount--never saw you all the time at
Richmond, or in the boat!"

"Oh!" Ripton said, well assured that he was a dwarf "you saw her safe
home?"

"Yes. I've been there for the last couple of hours--talking. She talks
capitally: she's wonderfully clever. She's very like a man, only much
nicer. I like her."

"But, Richard, excuse me--I'm sure I don't mean to offend you--but now
you're married...perhaps you couldn't help seeing her home, but I think
you really indeed oughtn't to have gone upstairs."

Ripton delivered this opinion with a modest impressiveness.

"What do you mean?" said Richard. "You don't suppose I care for any woman
but my little darling down there." He laughed.

"No; of course not. That's absurd. What I mean is, that people perhaps
will-