se? I love 'im, I adore 'im. Oh, Willyum, Willyum, you'll break my
'art if you go on with this yeer cold indifference----"'

'Stop,' I interposed sternly. At any other time I might have smiled at
the girl's quaint phraseology. But I did not smile just then. _Dulce
est desipere in loco_. Wild as the story sounded, it was making me
feel decidedly uncomfortable. A slight perspiration had broken out on
my forehead. But I threw a strong note of assurance into my voice as I
went on: 'Girl, this is a monstrous action on your part to
listen--er--overhear at doors and repeat conversations of a most
delicate nature to a third party.'

'What-ho,' put in Elizabeth.

'Now let me show you the mistake under which you are labouring. It is
true my name is William, but William is a common name. I have
remarked, indeed, that the world is pretty full of Williams. Miss
Warrington was in no way referring to me.'

'I don't think,' commented Elizabeth.

'Evidently you don't,' I said severely, 'or you would not make such
absurd statements.'

'I ain't done yet,' went on this diabolical creature. 'You say it
wasn't meant fer you? Listen. When Miss Marryun goes on wringin' 'er
'ands an' sobbin', "I love my Willyum," missus ses, "But 'ow can you
love such a big ugly brute of a man wot's allus throwin' 'is tobacco
ash about the place, and scrapin' the fendy with 'is feet and never
wears a fancy westcoat even at evernin' parties. 'Ow can you love
him?" she arsks.

'"I don't know myself," ses Miss Marryun, "but there it is. I'd rather
die than live without my Willyum."'

'Silence,' I burst out fiercely, 'do you think I don't know that all
this is pure invention on your part--for what reason I, as yet, cannot
tell. How dare you concoct such tales?'

'Wait till I've finished, please, sir. The missus, she ses, "But
Marryun, my pore dear, it's no use lovin' 'im. 'E ses to me 'is very
self the other day, 'e ses, 'Sooner than get married I'd go and dwell
in the wilderness, I'd go to Tibbet, be an 'ermit in a cave, give up
baccy, and give away every farthin' I 'ad in the world.'"'

A feeling of acute horror swept over me. With a crash my favourite
pipe fell from my nerveless fingers and was smashed to atoms on the
fender. There was truth in the girl's fantastic story after all. I
recalled using such expressions as those when, a little time before, I
was discussing conjugal difficulties in a talk with Mrs. Warrington.
Obviou