ing, you
immediately get the idea that everything is settled between them, and
that all you have to do is to wonder what sort of wedding present you
ought to give them."

"When a man gives himself away as completely as you have done in this
particular instance, it is not to be wondered that his friends think
there is something in the air," said Jimmy. "However, you know your
own business best. What time is the dinner?"

"Seven o'clock sharp," said Browne. "You had better meet me there a
few minutes before. Don't forget we go to the Opera afterwards."

"I am not likely to forget it," said Jimmy, with a doleful face.

"Very well, good-bye until to-morrow evening."

There was a little pause, and then Browne held out his hand.

"Thank you, Jimmy," he said with a sincerity that was quite
inconsistent with the apparent importance of the subject. "I felt sure
I could rely upon you."

"Rely upon me always," Jimmy replied. "I don't think you'll find me
wanting."

With that Browne bade him good-bye, and went out into the street. He
hailed a cab, and bade the man drive him to Park Lane.

Once it had started, he laid himself back on the cushions and gave free
rein to his thoughts. Though he had to all intents and purposes denied
it a few minutes before, there could be no doubt that he was in
love--head over ears in love. He had had many passing fancies before,
it is true, but never had he experienced such a strong attack of the
fever as at present. As the cab passed along the crowded street he
seemed to see that sweet face, with its dark eyes and hair; that
slender figure, and those beautiful white hands, with their long
tapering fingers; and to hear again the soft tones of Katherine's voice
as she had spoken to him in the studio that afternoon. She was a queen
among women, he told himself, and was worthy to be loved as such. But
if she were so beautiful and so desirable, could she be induced to have
anything to do with himself? Could she ever be brought to love him?
It was consistent with the man's character to be so humble, and yet it
was strange that he should have been so. Ever since he had been
eligible for matrimony he had been the especial prey of mothers with
marriageable daughters. They had fawned upon him, had petted him, and
in every way had endeavoured to effect his capture. Whether or not
Katherine Petrovitch knew of his wealth it was impossible for him to
say. He hoped she did not. It was