"You see, if I really cared for him, it would be different," she
said. "But I don't--and that's all."

"Lady Grizzle over again?" I ventured.

"Not altogether," she said, "you see she was perfectly mad about
somebody else--which really was hard lines for her, poor thing--
while I----"

"Oh, please go on!" I said, as she hesitated.

"Fyles," she said, with the ghost of a sigh, "this isn't day-
dreaming at all, and I'm going to give you another cup of tea and
change the subject."

"What would you prefer, then?" I asked. "No! No more chocolate
cake, thank you."

"Let's have a fairy story all of our own," she said.

"Well, you begin," I said.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a poor young man in New
York--an American, though of course he couldn't help that--and he
came over to England and discovered the home of his ancestors, and
he liked them, and they liked him--ever so much, you know--and he
found that the old place was destined to pass to strangers, and so
he worked and worked in a dark old office, and stayed up at night
working some more, and never accepted any invitations or took a
holiday except at week-ends to the family castle--until finally he