dining-room and introduce you."


"I have quite fallen in love with your friend," said Miss Blanche, as
they stood in the drawing-room looking at the figure of Bill, strolling,
with his short pipe in his mouth, through the distant shrubbery. "He
asks very queer questions, though. He wanted to know my mother's maiden
name."

"He is an honest fellow," said Islington, gravely.

"You are very much subdued. You don't thank me, I dare say, for keeping
you and your friend here; but you couldn't go, you know, until father
returned."

Islington smiled, but not very gayly.

"And then I think it much better for us to part here under these
frescos, don't you? Good by."

She extended her long, slim hand.

"Out in the sunlight there, when my eyes were red, you were very anxious
to look at me," she added, in a dangerous voice.

Islington raised his sad eyes to hers. Something glittering upon her own
sweet lashes trembled and fell.

"Blanche!"