oked down at the rug as she spoke, and there was a moment's
silence before he answered her. She had come straight to him from her
lover to say this thing to him. It was so like Audrey to tell him this.
An odd thought occurred to him as he listened to her--one of those
sudden flashes of memory that sometimes dart across the mind: he
remembered that once in his life he had kissed her.

It had been half a lifetime ago. She was only a child. They were staying
in London, and he had come to see them on his way from some review. He
remembered how Audrey had stood and looked at him. She had the same
clear gray eyes then.

'How grand you look, Mike!' she exclaimed in an awestruck tone, for as a
child she had always called him 'Mike.' 'I wish you would always wear
that beautiful scarlet coat; and I think, if you did not mind, I should
like you to kiss me just for once.'

Michael remembered how he had felt as she made that innocent request,
and how Dr. Ross had laughed; and then, when he kissed her cheek, she
thanked him quite gravely, and slipped back to her father.

'Why don't you ask for a kiss, too, Gage?' Dr. Ross observed in a joking
way.

But Geraldine had looked quite shocked at the idea.

'No, thank you, father; I never kiss soldiers,' she replied
discreetly--at which reply there had been a fresh laugh.

'He may be a soldier, but Mike's Mike, and I wanted to kiss him,'
returned Audrey stoutly. 'Why do you laugh, daddy?--little girls may
kiss anybody.'

Had he cared for her ever since then, he wondered; and then he pulled
himself up with a sort of start.

'Michael, why do you not answer me?'

'Because I was thinking,' he returned quietly. 'Audrey, do you know you
are just as much a child as you were a dozen years ago? Does it ever
occur to you, my dear, that Blake might not always endorse your opinion?
Stop,' as she was about to speak; 'we all know what a kind-hearted
person our Lady Bountiful is, and how she never thinks of herself at
all. But I have a sort of fellow-feeling with Blake, and I quite
understand his view of the case--that two is company and three are
none.'

'But, Michael,' and here Audrey blushed again, most becomingly, 'indeed
Cyril is not so ridiculous. I know what people generally think: that
engaged couples like to be left to themselves--and I daresay it is
pleasant sometimes--but I don't see why they are to be selfish. Cyril
has plenty of opportunities for talking to me; but when he comes