re engaged to her?"

"Lord, no!" said Lionel, mightily surprised. "Not the least intention of
trying. If that's all your trouble, go in and win. And good luck to
you!"

"I say," observed Tony with a most engaging smile, "you're a blind ass,
old yoke fellow of my youth; but you're no end of a sportsman. One more
question--I promise that I'm quite a decent chap, though appearances are
against me--is she engaged to any one else?"

"Not that I know of."

"The planet Jupiter is in conjunction with Saturn, or words to that
effect. Whatever the stars are, I seem to be in luck. Oh, of course she
mayn't look at me, I know. We must give her time to appreciate my many
excellences--not dream of rushing things. But she has made my few days'
stay so pleasant, that common gratitude----"

"No: don't spoil it!" said Lionel, reading something beneath Tony's idle
chatter; "you don't mean that." Tony looked at him and changed his tone.

"What I do mean," he said sincerely, "is that she's a perfectly top-hole
creature. She's taught me a few things--not excluding work, in which she
must share the credit with others--during the last few days. I want to
extend the lessons. Well, I think a little soap and water might be
rather a promising start. Where am I to see her? Up-stairs?"

He strolled off whistling cheerfully, bearing Lionel's good wishes. The
latter was in a good humor with all the world to-day: he felt like
giving a sovereign to every child, and a five-pound note to every
grown-up. "If ever I make a hit with my plays," he thought, "I'll give
the vicar a peal of bells and Mrs. Peters--what on earth could I give to
Mrs. Peters? I suppose a calf-bound set of her husband's sermons would
be the most acceptable souvenir, unless she's human enough to enjoy
diamonds. Yes, I think it might be diamonds." He smiled at his happy
visions, and walked back to the hammock-chair to wait till Beatrice
should appear.

He did not know, of course, whether she was coming by rail or motor, and
therefore did not trouble to look out possible trains. He was quite
content to wait patiently for her in that delightful garden, knowing now
that he loved her, and hoping she might love, or learn to love him. But
though he was content and patient, he could not distract himself, or
spend the lagging hours with books or newspapers. He tried, indeed, but
failed. After reading a few lines he found his attention wandering: he
could not compel his brain to follow t