will object."

Jack Meredith reflected for a moment, lazily, with that leisureliness
which gave a sense of repose to his presence.

"Possibly," he admitted gravely.

"He dislikes me," said the girl. "He is one of my failures."

"I did not know you had any. Have you tried? I cannot quite admit the
possibility of failure."

Millicent Chyne smiled. He had emphasised the last remark with
lover-like glance and tone. She was young enough; her own beauty was new
enough to herself to blind her to the possibility mentioned. She had not
even got to the stage of classifying as dull all men who did not fall
in love with her at first sight. It was her first season, one must
remember.

"I have not tried very hard," she said. "But I don't see why I should
not fail."

"That is easily explained."

"Why?"

"No looking-glass about."

She gave a little pout, but she liked it.

The music of the next dance was beginning, and, remembering their social
obligations, they both rose. She laid her hand on his arm, and for a
moment his fingers pressed hers. He smiled down into her upturned
eyes with love, but without passion. He never for a second risked the
"gentleman" and showed the "man." He was suggestive of a forest pool
with a smiling rippled surface. There might be depth, but it was yet
unpenetrated.

"Shall we go now," he said, "and say a few words in passing to my
redoubtable father? It might be effective."

"Yes, if you like," she answered promptly. There is no more confident
being on earth than a pretty girl in a successful dress.

They met Sir John at the entrance of the ballroom. He was wandering
about, taking in a vast deal of detail.

"Well, young lady," he said, with an old-world bow, "are you having a
successful evening?"

Millicent laughed. She never knew quite how to take Sir John.

"Yes, I think so, thank you," she answered, with a pretty smile. "I am
enjoying myself very much."

There was just the least suggestion of shyness in her manner, and it is
just possible that this softened the old cynic's heart, for his manner
was kinder and almost fatherly when he spoke again.

"Ah!" he said, "at your time of life you do not want much--plenty of
partners and a few ices. Both easily obtainable."

The last words were turned into a compliment by the courtly inclination
of the head that accompanied them.

The exigencies of the moment forced the young people to go with the
stream.

"Jack," said Sir John, as