a moved man's affectation
of levity. "He's made a splendid fight for it and won through. He's a
pretty little morsel--a well-bred 'un: wonder whom he belongs to?"

"To you--at least his life does," said Maude Falconer. "You couldn't
have fought harder for it if it had been a human being."

"Oh, a dog's the next thing, you know," he said, apologetically. "I'm
afraid it's been an awful nuisance and trouble for you. You haven't
blistered your hands, I hope? Let me see!"

She stretched out her hands, palm upwards, and he took them and
examined them.

"No. That's all right! 'All's well that ends well.' You want a few
lessons with the sculls, Miss Falconer, and you'd make a splendid
boat-woman. Perhaps you'd let me give you one or two?"

"Thank you; yes," she said; and to his surprise with less of her usual
half-scornful languor.

"Here's the tea. Any particular kind of cake you fancy?"

She said that the cakes would do, and poured out the tea; but he put
some milk into his saucer and gave some to the terrier, slowly,
methodically, and with a tenderness and gentleness which was not lost
upon the girl who watched him covertly before paying any attention to
his own tea.

"I wonder whether you could stand, my little man," he said, and he put
the terrier on the ground.

It stood upright and shivering for a moment, then it put its tiny paws
on Stafford's knee and looked up into his face appealingly. "Not up to
your usual form just yet, eh?" said Stafford, and he picked it up
gently and put it on his knee.

Maude Falconer looked at him.

"Give it to me," she said. "Men have no lap. He'll be more comfortable
with me."

"But he's wet still," he said. "He'll spoil that pretty dress of
yours."

"My pretty dress was made to be spoiled," she said, "Give it to me,
please, and get your tea."

"Do you mean it?" he asked, with a surprise which made her flush with
resentment, and something like shame.

For reply, she bent forward, took the dog from him, and tried to settle
it on her lap; but the mite looked piteously at Stafford and whined,
its big eyes imploring him to let it come back.

But Stafford stroked it and bade it sit still, and presently it curled
itself up.

"It has gone to sleep," said Maude. "It has soon forgotten its
trouble."

"It's a way dogs have," said Stafford. "May I smoke? George! what a
lovely afternoon!"

She glanced at him as he leant back in his chair, his long legs
stretched out and cross