t
very suddenly he laughed.

"I say," he said again, speaking jerkily, "is it the sun--or what? I
feel as if--you'd hit me between the eyes."

Max nodded towards the table. "Have your drink, boy, and pull yourself
together! You haven't won her yet, remember. You've got some uphill work
before you still."

Noel stopped at the table, and raised his glass. His hand shook
palpably, and the smile on Max's face became almost one of tenderness.
He watched him in silence as he drank, then lifted his own glass.

"Here's to your success!" he said.

Noel's eyes came down to him. They had the rapt look of a man who sees a
vision. "Oh, man," he suddenly exclaimed, "you don't know how I worship
her!"

And then abruptly he realized what he had said and to whom, and flushed
darkly, averting his look.

Max got to his feet, and faced him across the table. "You've got to
worship her always," he said, and in his voice there throbbed some
remote echo as of an imprisoned passion deep in his hidden soul.
"She'll need the utmost you can offer."

Noel looked back at him again, and the shamed flush died away. He leaned
impulsively forward, suddenly, boyishly remorseful for his churlishness.

"Max! Max, old boy! I'm an infernal brute!" he declared. "I was actually
forgetting that you--that you----"

"You're quite welcome to forget that," interposed Max grimly. He moved
round the table, and clapped a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder. "I
shall make it my business to forget it myself," he said. "But look here,
don't be headlong! She isn't quite ready for you yet. I speak as a
friend; go slow!"

Noel looked at him, and again the hot blood rose to his forehead. He
gripped the hand on his shoulder, and held it fast. "I say, Max," he
said, an odd sort of deference in his tone, "she doesn't know--does
she--what a much better chap you are than I?"

The corner of Max's mouth went up. "Don't talk bosh!" he said.

"I'm not," persisted Noel. "You're doing what I hadn't the spunk to do.
I think she ought to know that."

Max's smile passed from amusement to cynicism. "Do you seriously think a
woman loves a man for his good points?" he said.

"No; but you've no right to put her off with an inferior article,"
persisted Noel.

"My good chap, I! I tell you it was her own choice." Max almost laughed.

"But you care for her?" Noel's dark eyes became suddenly intent and
shrewd, and the boyishness passed from his face. "See here, Max, I won't