und replies, 'Nothing,' while a tell-tale blush
dyes her cheeks.

'Yes, there is,' he persists, 'why did Jimmy leave so suddenly?'

'He told Lady Dadford that he must get back to the Barracks to-night,'
she replies.

'Do you think I believe that?' says Paul.

'Why shouldn't you?'

'Now child, I know that something is wrong,' and Paul sits down by her
side, 'you told me yesterday you had promised to marry him, why has he
gone away to-day; you have not already disagreed?'

'I don't see that you have any right to question me like this,' she
answers evasively, 'but I suppose I had better tell you that I am not
going to marry Mr Dalrymple,' she says it so firmly that Ponsonby can
see that she is not joking.

'Why not?' he asks.

'For many reasons,' is the reply. 'For one he has not much to live on,
and--there are circumstances which would make it impossible--'

'Whew!--may I ask if the circumstances prevent him from marrying you or
you him.'

'I think there is no occasion for me to answer you,' replies Lippa
coldly, 'and I will beg you will mention to no one what I have told you
either yesterday or just now.'

'I shall write to Dalrymple to-night,' says he meditatively.

'I hope you will do no such thing,' and Miss Seaton rises hastily. 'I
think it would be extremely out of place for _you_ to interfere in any
way.'

There is a marked emphasis on the 'you' that makes Paul start while he
bites fiercely the ends of his moustache, and Philippa walks quickly out
of the room, rushes up to her own, and flinging herself on the bed gives
way to tears. 'Oh dear, oh dear,' she sobs, 'why does everything go
wrong and only a little time ago I was _so_ happy, and now I have hurt
Paul's feelings, and ...'

'Paul!'

Ponsonby on his way to bed is surprised at hearing himself called.

'Yes,' he replies.

'I want to tell you something,' is the answer.

The gas has been turned out and all the other men are just turning in
for the night.

'What do you want?' he says, going into the sitting-room, from whence
the voice issues, a solitary candle burns on the table, and discloses
Philippa.

'You here?' he exclaims surprised.

'Yes,' she says. 'I am afraid I vexed you this afternoon, and I wanted
to tell you I was sorry, and ...--'

'Don't think about it again, but really you know you ought not to be
here--'

'I only waited to tell you that,' she says, turning towards the door
feeling utterly miserable, and the tears