haps you had better go,' assented the bored-looking man. 'Wish I
could come with you; but, you see, I live here.'"

"I don't believe it," said Somerville the Briefless. "He's been cracking
his jokes, and some silly woman has taken him seriously."

But the rumour grew into report, developed detail, lost all charm,
expanded into plain recital of fact. Joey had not been seen within the
Club for more than a week--in itself a deadly confirmation. The question
became: Who was she--what was she like?

"It's none of our set, or we should have heard something from her side
before now," argued acutely Somerville the Briefless.

"Some beastly kid who will invite us to dances and forget the supper,"
feared Johnny Bulstrode, commonly called the Babe. "Old men always fall
in love with young girls."

"Forty," explained severely Peter Hope, editor and part proprietor of
_Good Humour_, "is not old."

"Well, it isn't young," persisted Johnny.

"Good thing for you, Johnny, if it is a girl," thought Jack Herring.
"Somebody for you to play with. I often feel sorry for you, having
nobody but grown-up people to talk to."

"They do get a bit stodgy after a certain age," agreed the Babe.

"I am hoping," said Peter, "it will be some sensible, pleasant woman, a
little over thirty. He is a dear fellow, Loveredge; and forty is a very
good age for a man to marry."

"Well, if I'm not married before I'm forty--" said the Babe.

"Oh, don't you fret," Jack Herring interrupted him--"a pretty boy like
you! We will give a ball next season, and bring you out, if you're
good--get you off our hands in no time."

It was August. Joey went away for his holiday without again entering the
Club. The lady's name was Henrietta Elizabeth Doone. It was said by the
_Morning Post_ that she was connected with the Doones of Gloucestershire.

Doones of Gloucestershire--Doones of Gloucestershire mused Miss
Ramsbotham, Society journalist, who wrote the weekly Letter to Clorinda,
discussing the matter with Peter Hope in the editorial office of _Good
Humour_. "Knew a Doon who kept a big second-hand store in Euston Road
and called himself an auctioneer. He bought a small place in
Gloucestershire and added an 'e' to his name. Wonder if it's the same?"

"I had a cat called Elizabeth once," said Peter Hope.

"I don't see what that's got to do with it."

"No, of course not," agreed Peter. "But I was rather fond of it. It was
a quaint sort of animal,