ked, looking up.

"'Married her.'

"'No,' he answered, returning to the contemplation of his hat.

"'Has she refused you then?' I said.

"'I ain't arst 'er,' he returned.

"He seemed unwilling to explain matters of his own accord. I had to put
the conversation into the form of a cross-examination.

"'Why not?' I asked; 'don't you think she cares for you any longer?'

"He burst into a harsh laugh. 'There ain't much fear o' that,' he said;
'it's like 'aving an Alcock's porous plaster mashed on yer, blowed if it
ain't. There's no gettin' rid of 'er. I wish she'd giv' somebody else a
turn. I'm fair sick of 'er.'

"'But you were enthusiastic about her a month ago!' I exclaimed in
astonishment.

"'Smythe may 'ave been,' he said; 'there ain't no accounting for that
ninny, 'is 'ead's full of starch. Anyhow, I don't take 'er on while I'm
myself. I'm too jolly fly.'

"'That sort o' gal's all right enough to lark with,' he continued; 'but
yer don't want to marry 'em. They don't do yer no good. A man wants a
wife as 'e can respect--some one as is a cut above 'imself, as will raise
'im up a peg or two--some one as 'e can look up to and worship. A man's
wife orter be to 'im a gawddess--a hangel, a--'

"'You appear to have met the lady,' I remarked, interrupting him.

"He blushed scarlet, and became suddenly absorbed in the pattern of the
carpet. But the next moment he looked up again, and his face seemed
literally transformed.

"'Oh! Mr. MacShaughnassy,' he burst out, with a ring of genuine
manliness in his voice, 'you don't know 'ow good, 'ow beautiful she is. I
ain't fit to breathe 'er name in my thoughts. An' she's so clever. I
met 'er at that Toynbee 'All. There was a party of toffs there all
together. You would 'ave enjoyed it, Mr. MacShaughnassy, if you could
'ave 'eard 'er; she was makin' fun of the pictures and the people round
about to 'er pa--such wit, such learnin', such 'aughtiness. I follered
them out and opened the carriage door for 'er, and she just drew 'er
skirt aside and looked at me as if I was the dirt in the road. I wish I
was, for then perhaps one day I'd kiss 'er feet.'

"His emotion was so genuine that I did not feel inclined to laugh at him.
'Did you find out who she was?' I asked.

"'Yes,' he answered; 'I 'eard the old gentleman say "'Ome" to the
coachman, and I ran after the carriage all the way to 'Arley Street.
Trevior's 'er name, Hedith Trevior.'

"'Miss Trevior!' I