unmirthfully as he had heard leading men laugh in problem plays.

"That is what she wrote," he mocked--"but how long did it last?
Until she saw that little red-headed Albany playing polo. That
lasted until his mother heard of it. She thought her precious
lamb was in the clutches of a designing actress, and made the
Foreign Office cable him home. Then Aline took up one of those
army aviators, and chucked him for that fellow who painted her
portrait, and threw him over for the lawn-tennis champion. Now
she's engaged to Chester Griswold, and Heaven pity her! Of course
he's the greatest catch in America; but he's a prig and a snob, and
he's so generous with his money that he'll give you five pennies for
a nickel any time you ask him. He's got a heart like the metre of a
taxicab, and he's jealous as a cat. Aline will have a fine time with
Chester! I knew him at St. Paul's and at Harvard, and he's got as
much red blood in him as an eel!"

Cochran sprang to the defense of the lady of his dreams.

"There must be some good in the man," he protested, "or Miss
Proctor-"

"Oh, those solemn snobs," declared Herbert, "impress women by
just keeping still. Griswold pretends the reason he doesn't speak
to you is because he's too superior, but the real reason is that
he knows whenever he opens his mouth he shows he is an ass."

Reluctantly Herbert turned over to Charles the precious pictures.
"It would be a sin to destroy them, wouldn't it?" he prompted.