st intention of marrying for at least
five years, and shall say no to whomever asks me before then,"'

Five years! Peter sipped his tea quietly, but with a hopeless feeling.
He would like to claim that bit of womanhood as his own that moment, and
she could talk of five years! It was the clearest possible indication to
Peter that Leonore was heart-whole. "No one, who is in love," he
thought, "could possibly talk of five years, or five months even." When
Peter got back to his chambers that afternoon, he was as near being
despairing as he had been since--since--a long time ago. Even the
obvious fact, that, if Leonore was not in love with him, she was also
not in love with any one else, did not cheer him. There is a flag in the
navy known as the Blue-Peter. That evening, Peter could have supplied
our whole marine, with considerable bunting to spare.

But even worse was in store for him on the morrow. When he joined
Leonore in the Park that day, she proved to him that woman has as much
absolute brutality as the lowest of prize-fighters. Women get the
reputation of being less brutal, because of their dread of
blood-letting. Yet when it comes to torturing the opposite sex in its
feelings, they are brutes compared with their sufferers.

"Do you know," said Leonore, "that this is almost our last ride
together?"

"Don't jerk the reins needlessly, Peter," said Mutineer, crossly.

"I hope not," said Peter.

"We have changed our plans. Instead of going to Newport next week, I
have at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see
something of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant. We are
going to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and then
through the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara. We shan't be in Newport
till the middle of August"

Peter did not die at once. He caught at a life-preserver of a most
delightful description. "That will be a very enjoyable trip," he said.
"I should like to go myself."

"There is no one I would rather have than you," said Leonore, laying her
little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way
which women have. Then she stabbed again. "But we think it pleasanter to
have it just a party of four."

"How long shall you be in Washington?" asked Peter, catching wildly at a
straw this time.

"For a week. Why?"

"The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run
down next week,"

'"Dear me," thought Leonore. "How very