"Becky!" exclaimed Dartmouth, as he grasped the situation. "I _am_ so
glad to see you. Where did you come from?"

"You frightened your devoted Jones to death with one of your
starvation moods, and he telegraphed for me. The idea of a man having
the blues in the second month of his engagement to the most charming
girl in Christendom!"

"Don't speak to me of her," exclaimed Dartmouth, throwing himself into
a chair and covering his face with his hands.

"Whew! What's up? You haven't quarrelled already? Or won't the
governor give his consent?"

"No," said Dartmouth, "that's not it."

"Then what the devil is the matter? Is--is she dead?"

"No."

"Was she married to some other man before?"

"No!"

"I beg your pardon; I was merely exhausting the field of conjecture.
Will you kindly enlighten me?"

"If I did, you would say I was a lunatic."

"I have been inclined to say so occasionally before--"