ubt those of us who are men, having been more or less pretty
fellows in our time, have had our triumphs, concerning which we are, as
a rule, becomingly mute, but occasionally, in the confidences of the
smoking-room, undesirably loquacious. For this fault there is no excuse,
unless such a one as justifies the practice of inflicting reprisals in
international quarrels; it being quite certain that our failures are no
secret--indeed there must be covertly (but extensively) circulating
somewhere a _Gazette_ wherein such occurrences are registered--there is
a kind of "wild justice" even in smoking-room disclosures. But whatever
our bad or good fortune may have been, it is not to be supposed for a
moment that any of us enjoy such an enchanting revelation as comes to a
young girl who, by nature's kind freak, has been made beautiful. Daisy
Medland was radiant as she turned from Norburn's pale thoughtful face
and careless garb to Dick Derosne, the outward perfection of a
well-born, well-made, well-dressed Englishman, bowing, smiling, and
debonair. Daisy liked Norburn very much--how much she never quite
knew--but there was no doubt that two young men were a pleasant change
from one, and the contrast between them increased the charm--a novel
charm to her--of the situation, for she was well aware that, different
as they were from one another, strong as the contrast was, they were
both at this moment thinking precisely the same thought, namely, "Who's
this fellow, and what does he want?"--a coincidence which again shows
that Norburn's theories had much to do before they conquered the world.

It is not a very uncommon sight to see a clever man sit mum, abashed by
the chatter of a cheery shallow-pate, who is happily unconscious of the
oppressive triviality of his own conversation. Norburn's eager flow of
words froze at the contact of Dick's small-talk, and he was a
discontented auditor of ball-room and club gossip. It amazed him that a
man should know, or care, or talk about more than half the things on
which Dick descanted so merrily; it astounded him that they should win
interest as keen and looks as bright as had ever rewarded the deepest
truth or the highest aspiration. All of which, however, was not really
at all odd, if only Mr. Norburn would have considered the matter a
little more closely. But then an old favourite threatened by a new
rival is not in a mood for cool analysis.

"And they say," pursued Dick, "that Puttock's comin