would have the island fortified, and death by slow torture inflicted
upon any woman who managed--as some of them would, in spite of all
precautions--to effect a landing."

"But the married girls are so stupid, my dear boy," ejaculated his
room-mate, Mr. Fielding. "You must admit that, if one must have either,
the single ones are decidedly preferable, or at least the young single
ones."

"Don't try to be funny," said Symington savagely: "you only succeed in
being weak. I have"--and he pulled out a note-book and glared at its
contents--"an engagement to take two to a concert this evening, other
two to a tennis-match on Saturday, and another one out rowing this
afternoon. And it's time for me to go now."

"It strikes me _you've_ been pretty middling weak," commented Fielding.
"Either that, or you're yarning tremendously about its being a bore: you
can take your choice."

"I leave it with you," said Symington wearily. "That Glover girl is
probably cooling her heels on the bank, and I must go."

"Alas, my brother! it is long since one of those Glover girls captured
me!"

The victim was a little late for his engagement, but no indignant Glover
girl lay in wait for him. The bank, green with the first soft grass of
spring, was deserted. Had she come and gone? He arranged himself
comfortably in the boat and began to sing, the balmy air and the
surroundings suggesting his song,--