flamed his ardor.

In the evening, pen in hand, in his dressing-room, or else at a table in a
cafe, after a second and a third glass of old port, he prepared his
batteries: letters, post-cards, he excelled in everything, was careful
about his phrases, with the vanity of an author whose writings are widely
quoted. Lily was "fascinating" and "bewildering;" he compared her to
"those strange Indian poppies whose scent intoxicates a man and sometimes
gives him death." Gee, but that set Lily dreaming! Fancy having all that
in her! Who on earth would have thought it? Never mind, it was very nice.

And the way in which she received her correspondence amused her as much as
the rest. Trampy, it goes without saying, did not write direct: a few
pence to Tom, who hated Clifton, and Lily received the cards in secret,
devoured them when she was alone and then quickly tore them into little
pieces and sent them flying through the window.

Her trouble was how to answer. She really did not know what to say:

"Pa was so angry with the girls yesterday. I got a kick of the pedal
on my shin. Otherwise I am quite well. Excuse more for the present. I
must now conclude.

"Lily."

By return of post, she received "a thousand kisses on her rosy cheeks, on
her fair tresses, everywhere," kisses without end.

"He's mad," thought Lily.

But she was greatly flattered by Trampy's attentions. He treated her as a
woman, not as a child, as Pa and Ma went out of their way to do. Her life,
after all, would be more agreeable if she was Trampy's wife; and he was
delivering the attack in person, since his return from Lancashire, where
he had traveled about with his property red-hot stove. He overwhelmed her
with bouquets, even as a general bombards a bastion before the final
assault, and he managed to meet her now. He dazzled Lily with his big gold
watch-chain and the diamond in his tie. When he was able to whisper a word
to her, it was always the same thing--"Motor-cars! Paris gowns! Jewels!
Flowers!"--until Lily thought she saw all the shop-windows in Regent
Street poured out at her feet.

Jimmy made but a sorry lover, compared with Trampy. He never promised
anything, silk dresses, diamonds or jewels. "The husband at work, the wife
at home." Gee, there were no ostrich-feathers in that! But he adored her
all the same, as Lily was well able to see; and she had many occasions to
talk to