ina," he said,
absently; he was clearly looking forward to this visit with some
compunction, not to say alarm.

Then he went to Miss Burgoyne. Miss Burgoyne had forgiven him for having
introduced Percival Miles to the Richmond dinner-party; indeed, she was
generally as ready to forgive as she was quick to take offence.

"I wish you would do me a very great favor," he said.

"What is it?" asked Grace Mainwaring, who was standing in front of the
tall mirror, adjusting the shining stars and crescents that adorned her
powdered hair.

"I suppose you could wear a little nosegay with that dress," he said,
"of natural flowers, done up with a bit of white satin ribbon, perhaps,
and a silver tube and cord, or something of that kind?"

"Flowers?" she repeated. "Oh, yes, I could wear them--if any one were
polite enough to give me them."

"I shall be delighted to send you some every evening for a month, if
you'll only do this for me on Saturday," said he. "It is on Saturday
night those two ladies are coming to the theatre; and you were good
enough to promise to ask them to your room and offer them some tea. The
younger of the two--that is, Miss Cunyngham--has never been behind the
scenes of a theatre before, and I think she will be very pleased to be
introduced to Miss Grace Mainwaring; and don't you think it would be
rather nice of Miss Grace Mainwaring to take those flowers from her
dress and present them to the young lady, as a souvenir of her visit?"

She wheeled round, and looked at him with a curious scrutiny.

"Well, this _is_ something new!" she said, as she turned to the mirror
again. "I thought it was the fortunate Harry Thornhill who received all
kinds of compliments and attentions from his lady adorers; I wasn't
aware he ever returned them. But do you think it is quite fair, Mr.
Moore? If this is some girl who has a love-sick fancy for Harry
Thornhill, don't you think you should drop Harry Thornhill and play
David Garrick, to cure the poor thing?"

"Considering that Miss Cunyngham has never seen Harry Thornhill," he was
beginning, when she interrupted him:

"Oh, only heard him sing in private? Quite enough, I suppose, to put
nonsense into a silly school-girl's head."

"When you see this young lady," he observed, "I don't think you will say
she looks like a silly school-girl. She's nearly as tall as I am, for
one thing."

"I hate giraffes," said Miss Burgoyne, tartly, "Do you put a string
round her neck whe