"That relieves me," she replied rather scornfully. "If Arthur Weldon
will vouch for them--"

"But I don't. I'll vouch for no one--not even myself," he declared
hastily. She was calmly reading his face, and did not seem to approve
the text.

"Are you as fickle as ever, then, _mon cher_?" she asked, softly.

"I'm not fickle, Diana. My fault is that I'm never serious."

"Never?"

"I cannot remember ever being serious; at least, where a girl was
concerned."

Diana bit her lips to restrain a frown, but her eyes, which he was
avoiding, flashed wickedly.

"That is surely a fault, my Arthur," was her tender reply. "Were you
never serious during our quiet evenings together; our dances, theatre
parties and romps?"

"That was merely fun. And you, Diana?"

"Oh, I enjoyed the fun, too. It meant so much to me. I began to live,
then, and found life very sweet. But when you suddenly left me and went
abroad--ah, _that_ was indeed serious."