man."

Katherine Holroyd looked up from her needlework. She was a gentle,
fair-haired woman of thirty, with demure blue eyes, which regarded the
girl with a mingling of pity, protection, and amusement.

"My dear," she said, "whenever I see a pretty girl fooling about with a
primitive man I always think of a sweet little monkey I once knew, who
used to have great sport with a lyddite shell. Her master kept it on his
table as a paper-weight, and no one knew it was loaded. One day she hit
the shell in the wrong place--and they're still looking for the monkey.
Don't think Dick is the empty shell."

Whereupon she resumed her work, and for a few moments the click of
thimble and needle alone broke the summer stillness. Viviette lay idly
on a long garden chair admiring the fit of a pair of dainty tan shoes,
which she twiddled with graceful twists of the ankles some five feet
from her nose. At Mrs. Holroyd's remark she laughed after the manner of
one quite contented with herself--a low, musical laugh, in harmony with
the blue June sky and the flowering chestnuts and the song of
the thrushes.

"My intentions with regard to Dick are strictly honourable," she
remarked. "We've been engaged for the last eleven years, and I still
have his engagement ring. It cost three-and-sixpence."

"I only want to warn you, dear," said Mrs. Holroyd. "Anyone can see that
Dick is in love with you, and if you don't take care you'll have Austin
falling in love with you too."