unknown that Miss Pembroke did not realize what had happened, and
kept her own hand stretched out longer than is maidenly.

"Coming to supper?" asked Ansell in low, grave tones.

"I don't think so," said Rickie helplessly.

Ansell departed without another word.

"Don't mind us," said Miss Pembroke pleasantly. "Why shouldn't
you keep your engagement with your friend? Herbert's finding
lodgings,--that's why he's not here,--and they're sure to be able
to give us some dinner. What jolly rooms you've got!"

"Oh no--not a bit. I say, I am sorry. I am sorry. I am most
awfully sorry."

"What about?"

"Ansell" Then he burst forth. "Ansell isn't a gentleman. His
father's a draper. His uncles are farmers. He's here because he's
so clever--just on account of his brains. Now, sit down. He isn't
a gentleman at all." And he hurried off to order some dinner.

"What a snob the boy is getting!" thought Agnes, a good deal
mollified. It never struck her that those could be the words of
affection--that Rickie would never have spoken them about a
person whom he disliked. Nor did it strike her that Ansell's
humble birth scarcely explained the quality of his rudeness. She
was willing to find life full of trivialities. Six months ago and