verybody would conclude
that you were jealous; and I--I should not like to imagine any one
thinking that I gave you cause."

"My own darling!" I cried.

* * * * *

When once more we resumed our conversation, I bethought me of another
plan, and I suggested to Evie that she could always find a retreat at my
home in Norfolk, if she wanted to get away from Mannering's presence. My
aunt, I knew, would be delighted to entertain her. She agreed at once to
adopt this course if the occasion should arise. Thus I thought I had
provided against every contingency for the short period which was to
elapse before our wedding-day.

When Mannering did return, however, it seemed as if we had been making
preparations to meet a contingency which was never likely to arise. He
learned of Evie's engagement from the Colonel, the morning after his
return to St. Albans. He took the news very well. Much more coolly than
I should have done had I been the disappointed one. In fact, a few
minutes after he had been made acquainted with Evie's engagement, he
came to us where we were in the garden, and congratulated us forthwith.

"You are a lucky fellow, Sutgrove," he said. "I had cherished a faint
hope that your luck might be mine, and now the only consolation I have
is that the best man always wins."

Spoken in a different tone than that which he employed, his words would
have made a very pretty compliment, but from his lips the words seemed
to be very like a sarcasm. However, I could pardon the expression of a
little bitterness under the circumstances, so I made no reply; and,
turning to Evie, he continued--

"I trust your new tie will not put an end to the old friendships, Miss
Maitland?"

"Why should it?" she asked.

"They often do," he replied.

"Not if the old friendships are the real thing," I interjected.

"No; not if they are the real thing," he repeated slowly. "I hope you
will find mine to be the real thing."

A faint smile fluttered across his face as he spoke, and was gone in an
instant. Neither Evie nor myself knew what to reply, and an awkward
pause ensued. He seemed to feel the awkwardness of it just as much as
either of us, and he changed the subject with an inquiry as to whether
anything further had been heard or seen of the Motor Pirate during his
own absence in Paris.

"I have been far too busy to even look at the papers," he explained,
"and he might have been captured for all I know.