"I don't care to make any new acquaintances. Even if I did, I prefer
my own countrymen. Don't you like America, Mr. de Brabazon?"

"Oh, of courth, if we only had some lords here."

"We have plenty of flunkeys."

"That's awfully clevah, 'pon my word."

"Is it? I am afraid you are too complimentary. You are very
good-natured."

"I always feel good-natured in your company, Miss Florence. I--wish I
could always be with you."

"Really! Wouldn't that be a trifle monotonous?" asked Florence,
sarcastically.

"Not if we were married," said Percy, boldly breaking the ice.

"What do you mean, Mr. de Brabazon?"

"I hope you will excuse me, Miss Florence--Miss Linden, I mean; but
I'm awfully in love with you, and have been ever so long--but I never
dared to tell you so. I felt so nervous, don't you know? Will you
marry me? I'll be awfully obliged if you will."

Mr. de Brabazon rather awkwardly slipped from his chair, and sank on
one knee before Florence.

"Please arise, Mr. de Brabazon," said Florence, hurriedly. "It is
quite out of the question--what you ask--I assure you."

"Ah! I see how it is," said Percy, clasping his hands sadly. "You love
another."

"Not that I am aware of."

"Then I may still hope?"

"I cannot encourage you, Mr. de Brabazon. My heart is free, but it can
never be yours."

"Then," said Percy, gloomily, "there is only one thing for me to do."

"What is that?"

"I shall go to the Bwooklyn Bwidge, climb to the parapet, jump into
the water, and end my misewable life."

"You had better think twice before adopting such a desperate
resolution, Mr. de Brabazon. You will meet others who will be kinder
to you than I have been----"

"I can never love another. My heart is broken. Farewell, cruel girl.
When you read the papers tomorrow morning, think of the unhappy Percy
de Brabazon!"

Mr. de Brabazon folded his arms gloomily, and stalked out of the room.

"If my position were not so sad, I should be tempted to smile," said
Florence. "Mr. de Brabazon will not do this thing. His emotions are as
strong as those of a butterfly."

After a brief pause Florence seated herself at the table, and drew
toward her writing materials.

"It is I whose heart should be broken!" she murmured; "I who am driven
from the only home I have ever known. What can have turned against me
my uncle, usually so kind and considerate? It must be that Curtis has
exerted a baneful influence upon him. I cannot leave him with