the gilded mirrors, the gilded flower-vases, and the
highly gilded company of the Optimum.

I was roused from my pleasant dream by a high, vivacious voice, which
I knew very well. Looking up, I saw Miss Hipgrave, her mother, and
young Bennett Hamlyn standing before me. I disliked young Hamlyn, but
he was always very civil to me.

"Why, how early you two have dined!" cried Beatrice. "You're at the
savory, aren't you? We've only just come."

"Are you going to dine?" I asked, rising. "Take this table; we're just
off."

"Well, we may as well, mayn't we?" said my _fiancee_. "Sorry you're
going though. Oh, yes, we're going to dine with Mr. Bennett
Hamlyn. That's what you're for, isn't it, Mr. Hamlyn? Why, he's not
listening!"

He was not, strange to say, listening, although, as a rule, he
listened to Beatrice with infinite attention and the most deferential
of smiles. But just now he was engaged in returning a bow which our
neighbor at the next table had bestowed on him. The lady there had
risen already, and was making for the door. The man lingered and
looked at Hamlyn, seeming inclined to back up his bow with a few
words of greeting. Hamlyn's air was not, however, encouraging, and the
stranger contented himself with a nod and a careless "How are you?"
and with that followed his companion. Hamlyn turned round, conscious
that he had neglected Beatrice's remark, and full of penitence for his
momentary neglect.

"I beg your pardon," said he, with an apologetic smile.

"Oh," answered she, "I was only saying that men like you were invented
to give dinners; you're a sort of automatic feeding-machine. You ought
to stand open all day. Really, I often miss you at lunch time."

"My dear Beatrice!" said Mrs. Kennett Hipgrave, with that peculiar
lift of her brows that meant, "How naughty the dear child is! Oh, but
how clever!"

"It's all right," said Hamlyn, meekly. "I'm awfully happy to give you
a dinner, anyhow, Miss Beatrice."

Now, I had nothing to say on this subject, but I thought I would just
make this remark:

"Miss Hipgrave," said I, "is very fond of a dinner."

Beatrice laughed. She understood my little correction.

"He doesn't know any better, do you?" said she, pleasantly, to Hamlyn.
"We shall civilize him in time, though. Then I believe he'll be nicer
than you, Charlie. I really do. You're--"

"I shall be uncivilized by then," said I.

"Oh, that wretched island!" cried Beatrice. "You're really going?"