nd I have both so much more money than we know what to
do with," she answered.

"Money? Oh, what of that! I have money."

She laughed again.

Hilliard was startled.

"You are talking rather wildly. Leaving myself out of the question,
what would Mr. Dally say to such a proposal?"

"Who's Mr. Dally?"

"Don't you know? Hasn't Patty told you that she is engaged?"

"Ah! No; she hasn't spoken of it. But I think I must have seen him at
the music-shop one day. Is she likely to marry him?"

"It isn't the wisest thing she could do, but that may be the end of it.
He's in an auctioneer's office, and may have a pretty good income some
day."

A long silence followed. They passed out of Russell into Woburn Square.
Night was now darkening the latest tints of the sky, and the lamps
shone golden against dusty green. At one of the houses in the narrow
square festivities were toward; carriages drew up before the entrance,
from which a red carpet was laid down across the pavement; within
sounded music.

"Does this kind of thing excite any ambition in you?" Hilliard asked,
coming to a pause a few yards away from the carriage which was
discharging its occupants.

"Yes, I suppose it does. At all events, it makes me feel discontented."

"I have settled all that with myself. I am content to look on as if it
were a play. Those people have an idea of life quite different from
mine. I shouldn't enjoy myself among them. You, perhaps, would."

"I might," Eve replied absently. And she turned away to the other side
of the square.

"By-the-bye, you _have_ a friend in Paris. Do you ever hear from her?"

"She wrote once or twice after she went back; but it has come to an
end."

"Still, you might find her again, if you were there."

Eve delayed her reply a little, then spoke impatiently.

"What is the use of setting my thoughts upon such things? Day after day
I try to forget what I most wish for. Talk about yourself, and I will
listen with pleasure; but never talk about me."

"It's very hard to lay that rule upon me. I want to hear you speak of
yourself. As yet, I hardly know you, and I never shall unless you----"

"Why should you know me?" she interrupted, in a voice of irritation.

"Only because I wish it more than anything else, I have wished it from
the day when I first saw your portrait."

"Oh! that wretched portrait! I should be sorry if I thought it was at
all like me."

"It is both like and unlike," said Hilliard. "Wha