r voice, the low, sweet ring of her laughter, and thrilling responsive
to her warm young womanhood.

"But Mr. Geoffrey," she enquired suddenly, "if you hate Mulligan's as
much as I do, whatever made you choose to live here?"

"A thrice blessed fate," he answered, "I came because--er--"

"You were a poor, lonely guy," added Spike hastily.

"Precisely, Spike! Compared to my sordid poverty Lazarus was rich, and
as for the loneliness of my existence the--er--abomination of desolation
was a flowery garden!"

"And how did you happen to meet Ar--"

A plate crashed to pieces on the floor, and turning, she beheld Spike
very red and rueful of visage.

"'Fraid I've bent a plate, Hermy," he explained, and winking desperately
at Ravenslee, he stooped to gather up the fragments.

"Oh, Arthur, and we have so few--"

"Yes, I know--but it's only the old cracked one, Hermy."

"You've broken an awful lot of things lately, boy dear," she sighed.
"Never mind--get on with your supper, dear."

"Oh, I'm all right, but what about you? Gee, Hermy, you sure do talk!"

"Do I, dear?"

"Well, I guess! You keep on at poor old Geoff so he don't get a chance
for a real proper chew."

"But then you see," said Ravenslee, "I would much rather talk than
eat--sometimes."

"But say, Geoff--"

"Miss Hermione, you were asking how I met--"

"Hey, Geoff!" said Spike hoarsely.

"How I met your brother," continued Ravenslee, silencing the boy with a
look. "Miss Hermione, I'll tell you full and freely." Here Spike took a
gulp of tea and choked, also his brow grew clammy, and he stared with
dilating eyes at Ravenslee, who began forthwith:

"Once upon a time, Miss Hermione, that is to say upon a certain dark
night, a man sat alone, physically and mentally alone, and very wretched
because his life was empty of all achievement--because, having been
blessed with many opportunities, he had never done anything worth while.
And as he sat there, looking back through the wasted years, this
miserable fool was considering, in his wretched folly, the cowardly sin
of self-destruction, because he was sick of the world and all things in
it--especially of his own useless self! But I hope I don't--er--bore
you, do I?"

"No," she answered a little breathlessly, gazing at him with eyes deep
and tender; "go on--please go on!"

"Well," continued Ravenslee gravely, "Destiny, or Heaven, or the
Almighty, taking pity on this sorry fool, sent to him an angel in the