is so consistently kept out of sight in their familiar converse.
They do not entirely believe in it; it ill accords with their
practical philosophy. Marriage--that is another thing. The
approaches to wedlock are a subject of honourable convention, not to
be confused with the trivialities of romance.

"I'm going down to Liverpool," he said, presently, "to meet Trafford
Romaine."

It gratified him to see the gleam in Miss Derwent's eyes the'
announcement had its hoped-for effect. Trafford Romaine, the Atlas
of our Colonial world; the much-debated, the universally interesting
champion of Greater British interests! She knew, of course, that
Arnold Jacks was his friend; no one could talk with Mr. Jacks for
half an hour without learning that; but the off-hand mention of
their being about to meet this very day had an impressiveness for
Irene.

"I saw that he was coming to England."

"From the States--yes. He has been over there on a holiday--
merely a holiday. Of course, the papers have tried to find a meaning
in it. That kind of thing amuses him vastly. He says in his last
letter to me----"

Carelessly, the letter was drawn from an inner pocket. Only a page
and a half; Arnold read it out. A bluff and rather slangy epistolary
style.

"May I see his hand?" asked Irene, trying to make fun of her wish.