"They had not been good friends of late," explains Dora hastily; "that
we all could see. And Florence is very peculiar, you know; she is quite
the dearest girl in the world, and I adore her; but I will confess to
you"--with another upward and bewitching glance from the charming blue
eyes--"that she has her little tempers. Not very naughty ones, you
know"--shaking her head archly--"but just enough to make one a bit
afraid of her at times; so I never ventured to ask her why she treated
poor Arthur, who really is her slave, so cruelly."

"And you think now that--" Sir Adrian breaks off without finishing the
sentence.

"That she has forgiven him whatever offense he committed? Yes, after
what we have just seen--quite a sentimental little episode, was it
not?--I can not help cherishing the hope that all is again right between
them. It could not have been a very grave quarrel, as Arthur is
incapable of a rudeness; but then dearest Florence is so capricious!"

"Ill-tempered and capricious!" Can the girl he loves so ardently be
guilty of these faults? It seems incredible to Sir Adrian, as he
remembers her sunny smile and gentle manner. But then, is it not her
dearest friend who is speaking of her--tender-hearted little Dora
Talbot, who seems to think well of every one, and who murmurs such
pretty speeches even about Arthur, who, if the truth be told, is not
exactly "dear" in the sight of Sir Adrian.

"You think there is, or was, an engagement between Arthur and Miss
Delmaine?" he begins, with his eyes fixed upon the ground.

"I think nothing, you silly man," says the widow playfully, "until I am