, "the most enlightened men often express
themselves in a purely conventional manner on subjects on which they
have the deepest convictions." This sententious utterance had the effect
of extinguishing the conversation for some moments, Marian being unable
to think of a worthy rejoinder. At last she said:

"What is your name?"

"Edward, or, familiarly, Ned. Commonly Ted. In America, Ed. With, of
course, the diminutives Neddy, Teddy, and Eddy."

"I think I should prefer Ned."

"I prefer Ned myself."

"Have you any other name?"

"Yes; but it is a secret. Why people should be plagued with two
Christian names, I do not know. No one would have believed in the motor
if they had known that my name was Sebastian."

"Sebastian!"

"Hush. I was actually christened Edoardo Sebastiano Conolly. My father
used to spell his name Conollj whilst he was out of Italy. I have
frustrated the bounty of my godfathers by suppressing all but the
sensible Edward Conolly."

There was a pause. Then Marian spoke.

"Do you intend to make our--our engagement known at once?"

"I have considered the point; and as you are the person likely to be
inconvenienced by its publication, I am bound to let you conceal it for
the present, if you wish to. It must transpire sometime: the sooner the
better. You will feel uncomfortably deceitful with such a secret; and as
for me, every time your father greets me cordially in the City I shall
feel mean. However, you can watch for your opportunity. Let me know at
once when the cat comes out of the bag."

"I will. I think, as you say, the right course is to tell at once."

"Undoubtedly. But from the moment you do so until we are married you
will be worried by remonstrances, entreaties, threats, and what not; so
that we cannot possibly make that interval too short."

"We must take Nelly into our confidence. You will not object to that?"

"Certainly not. I like Miss McQuinch."

"You really do! Oh, I am so glad. Well, we are accustomed to go about
together, especially to picture galleries. We can come to the Academy as
often as we like; and you can come as often as you like, can you not?"

"Opening day, for instance."

"Yes, if you wish."

"Let us say between half-past four and five, then. I would willingly be
here when the doors open in the morning; but my business will not do
itself while I am philandering and making you tired of me before your
time. The consciousness of having done a day's work is