ed, and sighed, and occasionally indulged in a little, mild
sparring, as very youthful lovers are apt to do.

"I must say you are uncommonly complacent about my going! A fellow
hardly expects the girl he's engaged to, to be in such uproarious
spirits just on the eve of their separation," Stanor would grumble
suddenly at the end of one of his _fiancee's_ mirthful sallies,
whereupon Pixie, her vanity hurt by his want of appreciation, would snap
out a quick retort.

"If I'm sad you want me to be glad, and if I'm glad you're annoyed that
I'm not sad! There's no pleasing you! You ought to be thankful that
I'm so strong and self-controlled. ... Would it make it easier; if I
were hanging round your neck in hysterics?"

"Oh, bar hysterics! But a tear or two now and then... Suppose it was
Bridgie who was going instead of me?--would you be as strong and
self-controlled?"

"If Bridgie were going I'd ... I'd jump--" In the midst of her
passionate declaration Pixie drew herself up, shot a frightened glance,
and concluded lamely, "I'd ... be very much distressed!"

"That's not what you were going to say. You were going to say that
you'd jump into the water and swim after her, or some such nonsense.
You can be perfectly cool and calm about _my going_, but when it comes
to Bridgie--"

"If it'll please you better, I'll begin to howl this minute! I don't
often, but when I do, it seems as if I could never stop. I _thought_,"
Pixie added reproachfully, "when a girl was engaged the man thought her
perfect, and everything she did, and she sat listening while he sang her
praises from morn to night. But _you_ find fault--"

"I don't call it finding fault to wish you would show more feeling!
It's the best sort of compliment, if you could only see it."

"I like my compliments undiluted, not wrapped up in reproaches, like
powder in jam. Besides, you're fairly complacent yourself! I heard you
telling Geoffrey that you expected to have a real good time."

"And suppose I did? What about that? Would you prefer me to be lonely,
and miserable?"

"Oh _dear_!" cried Pixie poignantly; "we're quarrelling! Whose fault
was it? Was it mine? I'm sorry, Stanor. _Don't_ let's quarrel! I
want you to be happy. Could I love you if I didn't do that? I want it
more than anything else. Honor is coming to-morrow, and I shall ask her
to look after you for me. She knows so many people, and is so rich that
she has the power to help. Sh