to walk a mile. Was it you, or Moore, who lingered so?"

"Shirley, you talk nonsense."

"He talked nonsense—that I doubt not; or he looked it, which is a thousand times worse: I see the reflection of his eyes on your forehead at this moment. I feel disposed to call him out, if I could only get a trustworthy second: I feel desperately irritated: I felt so last night, and have felt it all day.

"You don't ask me why," she proceeded, after a pause, "you little, silent, over-modest thing; and you don't deserve that I should pour out my secrets into your lap without an invitation. Upon my word, I could have found it in my heart to have dogged Moore yesterday evening with dire intent: I have pistols, and can use them."

"Stuff, Shirley! Which would you have shot—me or Robert?"

"Neither, perhaps—perhaps myself—more likely a bat or a tree-bough. He is a puppy—your cousin: a quiet, serious, sensible, judicious, ambitious puppy. I see him standing before me, talking his half-stern, half-gentle talk, bearing me down (as I am very conscious he does) with his fixity of purpose, &c.; and then——I have no patience with him!"

Miss Keeldar started off on a rapid walk through the room, repeating energetically that she had no patience with men in general, and with her tenant in particular.