hand, "I will take them with me and judge for myself. If I can use
them, Miss Strong, it will be a pleasure to me to do so; if I cannot, I
may be able to make some suggestion as to their disposal."

"It's awfully good of you, Drexley," Douglas declared, but Drexley was
bowing to Cicely. All the gratitude the heart of man could desire was
in those soft brown eyes and flushed cheeks.

"I see you've nearly finished," Drexley said. "I am only in time to
offer you liqueurs. I always take a _fin_ instead of a savoury, and I
shall take the liberty of ordering one for you, Jesson, and a _creme de
menthe_ for Miss Strong."

"You're very good," Douglas answered.

The order was given to the head-waiter himself, who stood by Drexley's
chair. Drexley raised his little glass and bowed to the girl.

"I drink your health, Miss Strong," he said, gravely, "and yours,
Jesson. May I find your stories as good as I expect to."

Cicely smiled back at him. Her face was scarlet, for the coupling of
their names, and Drexley's quiet smile, was significant. But Douglas
only laughed gaily as he reached for his hat, and drew Cicely's feather
boa around her with a little air of protection.

"Good night, Drexley," he said.

And Drexley, rising to his feet, bowed gravely, looking into the girl's
face with a light in his eyes which ever afterwards haunted her when his