"It's eagerness dissimulated," the young man returned as the subject of
their observation lingered before his Gainsborough. "He edges toward us
shyly. Does he mean that she saved him by burning that book?"

"That book? what book did she burn?" The girl quickly turned her face to
him.

"Hasn't he told you then?"

"Not a word."

"Then he doesn't tell you everything!" Paul had guessed that she pretty
much supposed he did. The great man had now resumed his course and come
nearer; in spite of which his more qualified admirer risked a profane
observation: "St. George and the Dragon is what the anecdote suggests!"

His companion, however, didn't hear it; she smiled at the dragon's
adversary. "He _is_ eager--he is!" she insisted.

"Eager for you--yes."

But meanwhile she had called out: "I'm sure you want to know Mr. Overt.
You'll be great friends, and it will always be delightful to me to
remember I was here when you first met and that I had something to do
with it."

There was a freshness of intention in the words that carried them off;
nevertheless our young man was sorry for Henry St. George, as he was
sorry at any time for any person publicly invited to be responsive and