before the critical American.

"I almost forgot to tell you, Phil," suddenly cried Lady Saxondale,
her pretty face beaming with excitement. "The girl he is to marry is
an old flame of yours."

"Quite impossible, Lady Frances. I never had a flame."

"But she was, I'm sure."

"Are you a theosophist?" asked Phil, gaily, but he listened
nevertheless. Who could she be? It seemed for the moment, as his
mind swept backward, that he had possessed a hundred sweethearts.
"I've had no sweetheart since I began existence in the present
form."

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Dickey, solemnly and impressively.

"I'll bet my soul Frances is right," drawled Lord Bob. "She always
is, you know. My boy, if she says you had a sweetheart, you either
had one or somebody owes you one. You've never collected, perhaps."

"If he collected them he'd have a harem," observed Mr. Savage,
sagely. "He's had so many he can't count 'em."

"I should think it disgusting to count them, Mr. Savage, even if he
could," said Lady Jane, severely.

"I can count mine backwards," he said.