through the Hoops?"

Arnold and Blanche were left together.

Among the personal privileges which Nature has accorded to women, there
are surely none more enviable than their privilege of always looking
their best when they look at the man they love. When Blanche's eyes
turned on Arnold after her uncle had gone out, not even the hideous
fashionable disfigurements of the inflated "chignon" and the tilted hat
could destroy the triple charm of youth, beauty, and tenderness beaming
in her face. Arnold looked at her--and remembered, as he had never
remembered yet, that he was going by the next train, and that he was
leaving her in the society of more than one admiring man of his own age.
The experience of a whole fortnight passed under the same roof with her
had proved Blanche to be the most charming girl in existence. It was
possible that she might not be mortally offended with him if he told her
so. He determined that he _would_ tell her so at that auspicious moment.

But who shall presume to measure the abyss that lies between the
Intention and the Execution? Arnold's resolution to speak was as firmly
settled as a resolution could be. And what came of it? Alas for human
infirmity! Nothing came of it but silence.

"You don't look quite at your ease, Mr. Brinkworth," said Blanche. "What
has Sir Patrick been saying to you? My uncle sharpens his wit on every
body. He has been sharpening it on _you?"_

Arnold began to see his way. At an immeasurable distance--but still he
saw it.