of knowledge, does n't explain away his famished glance unless,
indeed, he's behind with the rent: but even then, it's not
famished he'd look, but merely anxious and persuasive. I'm
a landlord myself. No, Trixie, dear, you've made roast meat of
the poor fellow's heart, as the poetical Persians express it;
and if he has n't told you so yet with his tongue, he tells the
whole world so with his eyes as often as he allows them to rest
on their loadstone, your face. You can see the sparks and the
smoke escaping from them, as though they were chimneys. If
you've not observed that for yourself, it can only be that
excessive modesty has rendered you blind. The man is head over
ears in love with you. Nonsense or bonsense, that is the sober
truth."

Beatrice laughed.

"I 'm sorry to destroy a romance, Kate," she said; "but alas
for the pretty one you 've woven, I happen to know that, so far
from being in love with me, Mr. Marchdale is quite desperately
in love with another woman. He was talking to me about her the
moment before you arrived."

"Was he, indeed?--and you the barest acquaintances!" quizzed
Mrs. O'Donovan Florence, pulling a face. "Well, well," she
went on thoughtfully, "if he's in love with another woman, that
settles my last remaining doubt. It can only be that the other
woman's yourself."

Beatrice shook her head, and laughed again.