name.

HERBERT DALLISON.
_Junior Conservative Club._

"I don't suppose we shall ever meet again," she says to herself
reflectively. "But he must so kindhearted, or he wouldn't have
troubled about my dress or the cat."

Though Eleanor Roche is so in love with her own lustrous eyes, she does
not yet realise how much goodwill they can win her. She has yet to
learn that the dangerous gift of a subtle charm may make or mar its
owner's life.

"We have only one more day here," says Philip, who had mapped out their
tour, "and I want you to see 'Waterloo,' dearest."

"Is it amusing?" asks Eleanor.

"Well, interesting is more the word,"

"Then I probably shall not care for it. The places you call
interesting are so dull!"

However, Philip carries out his plan, and takes her to the little
straggling village of Brane l'Alleud. The churchyard full of English
graves and monuments quite distresses Eleanor.

"To think of all these brave men dying nobly for their country, and
then being buried in this out-of-the-way place!" she exclaims.

"I suppose it is all the same to them," replies Philip.

"But I don't like the idea, nor am I fond of the sight of graves, and
the thought of death. Oh, Philip! what is that fat old man saying to
you?"

"He wants to show us a grave over the Marquis of Anglesea's leg, and is
the proud possessor of the house where it was amputated. It was buried
in a polished coffin, and has a monument erected to its memory. But
who are you eyeing so intently, Eleanor?" turning as he speaks. "Why!
If it isn't that impudent young puppy again, who mopped up the milk!"

"Cream, Philip, cream."

"Well! don't look at him, darling," putting his arm through hers to
draw her gently away. "We will escape from the voluble Belgian with
the leg story. He wants to show us the boot that once cased the foot.
Such a fuss about nothing!"

Eleanor returns to the carriage, but, as they drive to the huge mound
with the Belgic Lion on the summit, she is conscious that Herbert
Dallison is following.

For the rest of the day he always seems only a yard from her, as they
examine the red walls pitted by bullets, and wander round the Museum.
He has a party of friends with him--Eleanor can hear them chaffing the
guide, and ridiculing everything. Their absurd remarks amuse her, from
time to time she laughs for no apparent reason.

At last she owns to fatigue, and Philip leaves her, while he goes in
search