miserable. By the bye, pardon my rudeness in forgetting to ask after the health of Captain Dillington."

There had been a smile on his face as I began my speech. It froze at once—as they say in the novels. A pained blush spread itself slowly over his face. "Captain Dillington," he said deliberately, "is well. Why are you so interested in him?"

"Only because you are," I replied flippantly. "It is the mutual attachment of you two young men that interests me. I think I told you so before, Mr. Ravener."

There was silence for a long time. It was not an eloquent silence. I employed a few leisure moments in removing the jam from my face. He bit his small moustache, as young men often do, more I believe to show that they have one to bite, than because they like it.

"Miss Bouverie," said Arthur Ravener, "you say you were interested in me because you found that I did not pay you silly compliments, and talk nonsense. Now don't think me impertinent, if I tell you that I rejoice in the fact that I have met