g, in consequence of secret inquiries he had made of the hall
porter of the flats in Shaftesbury Avenue, he had accepted the young
man, and had even been gratified by the proposal of marriage which
Ralph had placed before him.

Thus the pair had become engaged, the wedding being fixed to take place
in the middle of November. Even as Jean stood there, a faint tap was
heard at the door, and the maid-of-all-work announced:

"Mr. Ansell is downstairs, miss."

Jean responded, and after washing her hands and patting her hair before
the glass, put on her hat and descended to the rather dingy,
old-fashioned drawing-room over the shop, where stood her lover alone at
the open window, looking down upon the traffic in the broad,
brilliantly-lit London thoroughfare.

Very neat and dainty she looked in her well-cut, dark skirt, and blouse
of white crepe de Chine, which she wore with a distinctly foreign
_chic_, and as she entered, her pretty face was bright and happy:
different, indeed, to the heavy, troubled expression upon it ten minutes
before.

"Ah, Ralph!" she cried, in warm welcome, as she sprang into his ready
arms, and he bent till his lips touched hers. "You are earlier than you
expected," she added in French. "I hardly thought you would be able to
get back from the country in time to-night."

"Well, you see, dearest, I made an effort, and here I am," replied the
young man with the strong, clean-shaven features and the large, round,
penetrating eyes. "I've been travelling ever since three o'clock, and
it's now nearly ten."

Though he, too, spoke in French, his appearance was very English. No one
would have taken him for anything else but an honest, upright,
thorough-going young Englishman. He was of that strong, manly,
well-set-up type, the kind of level-headed, steady young man, with whom
no father would hesitate to entrust his daughter's future. As he stood
in his smart, blue serge suit with well-ironed trousers, and a fine
diamond in his cravat, holding her in his arms and kissing her fondly,
he looked the true lover, and assuredly their hearts beat in unison.

Jean Libert loved him with a great, all-consuming affection, a blind
passion which obliterated any defects which she might have observed, and
which endowed him in her eyes with all the qualities of a hero of
romance.

They were, indeed, a handsome pair. Her dark head was resting upon his
shoulder, while his strong right arm was about her slim waist.

S