haffing, I knew that under it was a current of anxiety for
me--the darling!

I screwed my glass at her tenderly.

"What would you have done," I said softly, "if he had--er--lugged me
off, you know?"

"_Can_ you ask?" What a reproachful side-glance she shot me through the
meshes of her silken what-you-call-'ems! "Why, of course, I should have
drawn my good excalibar and run him thr-r-rough and thr-r-r-ough!"

By Jove, how she said it! And she illustrated with the stemless
rose--dash it, no; the roseless stem! She was _superb_--looked like the
jolly fencing girl; only a dashed sight more stunning, don't you know!
And her excalibar, too! Didn't know what a jolly excalibar was, but
guessed it was some delightfully mysterious but deadly feminine
thing--some kind of submerged hat-pin-sort-of-thing, you know--_that_
sort, dash it! Yet she would have drawn it--and her _good_ one, too, she
said!

"Jove!" I said feelingly. "Would you, _really_?" And I almost took her
hand--and again remembered the windows! So I just shot her a look.

Her glorious eyes sparkled. "That is, I would if I had one," she said
smiling; "but I'm afraid poor Arthur lost the last and only one. Sad,
isn't it?"

"Oh!"

I just felt my jolly heart sink like what's-its-name. Who the deuce was
"poor Arthur?" This must be another--some other thundering chap who had
been engaged to her. And what a rotten, careless beggar, too, to have
lost it--that is, if he _really_ had! Of course, he would say so,
anyhow. And how the deuce did he get it, in the first place--did she
give it to him, or did he--

By Jove, how I should have liked to punch Arthur's head! Always did hate
a chap with that name! I flushed guiltily, but she did not see. For the
moment, she was looking off dreamily across the valley.

"I wonder," she said pensively, "why it is one can never find another
man like Arthur. Do you suppose it is because he was the ideal?"

For an instant, I swallowed hard--then I plucked up bravely, or tried
to, don't you know.

"Jolly likely!" I chirped. Then gloomily: "Oh, I say, you know, was he
_your_ ideal?"

"Always!"--the blue eyes lighted wistfully--"I suppose it's because he
was my first love; I found him so brave, so noble-mannered, you know--so
simple!"

_Simple!_ Dash simple people--never could stand them! Thing _I_ admired
was brains! Aloud I said gently--almost humbly:

"So glad you like him, don't you know--_did_ like, I mean!"

"_Did_ like?