encouragement._

_Podbury_ (_humming "In Old Madrid" with sentiment_).
La-doodle-um-La-doodle-oo: La-doodle-um-te-dumpty-loodle-oo! I think
she rather seemed to like me--those first days at Brussels, don't
_you_?

_Culchard_ (_absently_). Did she? I daresay. (_Whistling "The
Wedding March" softly_.) Few-fee; di-fee-fee-few-few;
few-fiddledy-fee-fiddledy-few-few-few-fee. I fancy I'm right in my
theory, eh?

_Podb._ Oh, I should say so--yes. _What_ theory?

_Culch._ (_annoyed_). What theory? Why, the one I've been explaining
to you for the last ten minutes!--that all this harshness of hers
lately is really, when you come to analyse it, a decidedly encouraging
symptom.

_Podb._ But I shouldn't nave said Miss TROTTER was exactly _harsh_ to
me--lately, at all events.

_Culch._ (_with impatience_). Miss TROTTER! You! What an egotist you
are, my dear fellow! I was referring to myself and Miss PRENDERGAST.
And you can't deny that, both at Nuremberg and Constance, she--

_Podb._ (_with careless optimism_). Oh, _she_'ll come round all right,
never fear. I only wish I was half as safe with Miss TROTTER!

_Culch._ (_mollified_). Don't be too downhearted, my dear PODBURY. I