Even Mr. Walraven was a little shocked, and undertook, in the course of
the evening, to expostulate.

"Flirting is all very well, Mollie," he said, "but it really mustn't be
carried too far. People are beginning to make remarks."

"Are they?" said Mollie; "about which of us, pray? for really and truly,
guardy, you have been flirting the worst of the two."

"Nonsense, Mollie! You mean Miss Oleander, I suppose? That is no
flirtation."

"Indeed! then it is worse--it is serious?"

"Yes, if asking her to marry me be serious. And she has said yes,
Mollie."

Miss Dane looked at him compassionately.

"You poor, unfortunate guardy! And you are really going to marry Blanche
Oleander! Well, one comfort is, you will be ready to blow your brains
out six months after; and serve you right, too! Don't let us talk about
it to-night. I am sorry for you, and if you have any sense left you will
soon be sorry for yourself. Here comes Doctor Oleander, and I mean to be
as fascinating as I know how, just to drive the other two to the verge
of madness."

She danced away, leaving Mr. Walraven pulling his mustache, a picture of
helpless perplexity.