vacant expression, and his face was not an advantageous face. It was
round, pudgy, weak, with shadows of petulance about the mouth, and the
forehead sloped away at an angle which house-builders, speaking of
roofs, call a quarter-pitch. His chin, acting on the hint offered by the
forehead, was likewise in full retreat. Altogether, one might have said
of Mr. Fopling that if he were not a delightful, at worst he would never
become a dangerous companion. Richard surveyed him with a deal of
curiosity; then he questioned Dorothy with a glance.

"Bess is to marry him," whispered Dorothy.

"What for?" whispered Richard, off his guard. Then, pulling himself
together in confusion: "Of course, he loves her, I dare say. Your friend
Bess is a beautiful girl!"

Richard brought forth the last with hurried unction. It was a cunning
remark to make; it drew Dorothy's attention off Mr. Fopling, whom she
was preparing to defend with spirit, and centered it upon herself. At
Richard's observation, so flattering to Bess, she tossed her head.

"Is she?" said Dorothy, with a falling inflection, vastly severe.

The two were near a window and quite alone, for Bess had stepped into
the hall to give directions to a servant. Mr. Fopling sat the length of
the room away, wrapped in meditation. Richard looked tenderly
apologetic, and Dorothy, after sparkling for a jealous moment, softened
to be in sympathy with Richard.

And the strange thing was that neither had ever said one word of love to
the other. They had begun to love at sight, taking each other for