dinner while she set a place for him in the warmest corner, was a
matter of such moment that the Sunflower went to see. Ah, the
Sunflower, of the soft heart and swift sympathy! Leith Clay-Randolph
threw his glamour over her for fifteen long minutes, whilst I
brooded with my cigar, and then she fluttered back with vague words
and the suggestion of a cast-off suit I would never miss.

"Surely I shall never miss it," I said, and I had in mind the dark
gray suit with the pockets draggled from the freightage of many
books--books that had spoiled more than one day's fishing sport.

"I should advise you, however," I added, "to mend the pockets
first."

But the Sunflower's face clouded. "N--o," she said, "the black one."

"The black one!" This explosively, incredulously. "I wear it quite
often. I--I intended wearing it to-night."

"You have two better ones, and you know I never liked it, dear," the
Sunflower hurried on. "Besides, it's shiny--"

"Shiny!"

"It--it soon will be, which is just the same, and the man is really
estimable. He is nice and refined, and I am sure he--"

"Has seen better days."

"Yes, and the weather is raw and beastly, and his clothes are