"Her name is--?"

"Dahlia."

"Ah, yes!--Dahlia. Extremely pretty. There are brown dahlias--dahlias
of all colours. And the portrait of this fair creature hangs up in your
chambers in town?"

"Don't call them my chambers," Algernon protested.

"Your cousin's, if you like. Probably Edward happened to be at the Bank
when fair Dahlia paid her visit. Once seems to have been enough for both
of you."

Algernon was unread in the hearts of women, and imagined that Edward's
defection from Mrs. Lovell's sway had deprived him of the lady's
sympathy and interest in his fortunes.

"Poor old Ned's in some scrape, I think," he said.

"Where is he?" the lady asked, languidly.

"Paris."

"Paris? How very odd! And out of the season, in this hot weather. It's
enough to lead me to dream that he has gone over--one cannot realize
why."

"Upon my honour!" Algernon thumped on his knee; "by jingo!" he adopted
a less compromising interjection; "Ned's fool enough. My idea is, he's
gone and got married."

Mrs. Lovell was lying back with the neglectful grace of incontestable
beauty; not a line to wrinkle her smooth soft features. For one sharp
instant her face was all edged and puckered, like the face of a fair
witch. She sat upright.

"Married! But how can that be when we none of us have heard a word of
it?"

"I daresay you haven't," said Algernon; "and not likely to. Ned's
the closest fellow of my acquaintance. He hasn't taken me into his
confidence, you maybe sure; he knows I'm too leaky. There's no bore like
a secret! I've come to my conclusion in this affair by putting together
a lot of little incidents and adding them up. First, I believe he was
at the Bank when that fair girl was seen there. Secondly, from the
description the fellows give of her, I should take her to be the
original of the portrait. Next, I know that Rhoda has a fair sister who
has run for it. And last, Rhoda has had a letter from her sister, to say
she's away to the Continent and is married. Ned's in Paris. Those are my
facts, and I give you my reckoning of them."

Mrs. Lovell gazed at Algernon for one long meditative moment.

"Impossible," she exclaimed. "Edward has more brains than heart." And
now the lady's face was scarlet. "How did this Rhoda, with her absurd
name, think of meeting you to tell you such stuff? Indeed, there's a
simplicity in some of these young women--" She said the remainder to
herself.

"She's really very innocent and good," A