an, absolutely independent in every sense of
the word, who looked considerably younger than her real age, and
appeared so small and so fragile that, like thistledown, she might
almost be blown away. Nevertheless, she was anything but light, in
either head or purse. Fuchsia was not pretty; indeed, to be honest,
was barely good-looking. Her complexion was colourless, her thick hair
a dull, ashen shade, her eyes, though remarkably lively, were much too
small, her chin, on the other hand, was much too long. Beautifully
marked brows, white teeth, and a fairy figure, were her assets; and, as
she herself said, "she had plenty of snap!" Miss Bliss was uncommonly
shrewd and vivacious. Her friends (these were many) were somewhat
afraid of Fuchsia's plain speaking (her thoughts were too close to her
tongue); she professed to be enormously interested in Burma and found
it such a quaint old country, declared that the pagodas were "too sweet
for words," and the Burmese women "just the dearest, daintiest, best
tricked out, little talking dolls!"

(A cynical critic might have compared Miss Fuchsia herself to a
"talking doll.")

"America," she announced, "was a brand-new nation, bubbling over with
energy and vim, whilst this drowsy old Eastern land was most
deliciously restful and ancient--it made a nice change."

Down at the bottom of a good-sized heart Miss Fuchsia was aware that it
was not altogether an admiration for the East which detained her
lingering in Burma. For the first time in her life the pale-faced
heiress was seriously interested in one of the other sex. This
fortunate man happened to be Patrick FitzGerald, of the Burmese Police;
a fellow without a penny beyond his pay, but well set up,
self-possessed, and handsome; a capital partner, a congenial spirit,
and a complete contrast to herself.

The couple now approached Shafto and his companion, FitzGerald, rather
warm, mopping his good-looking face, Miss Bliss, tripping airily beside
him, in an exquisite green toilet, still--as always--talking.

"Only think--he has got to go!" she announced with a dramatic gesture,
halting in front of Sophy as she spoke. "Isn't it too--too awfully
provoking? He has been sent for, right now in the middle of the
ball--engaged to me for two more waltzes, supper and an extra, and here
am I, side-tracked!"

"A true bill--I am off," said FitzGerald, with a significant glance at
Shafto; "I leave Miss Bliss and my reputation in you