gh
he was an admirer of pretty girls--that it was nothing new to see one
and forget her, until chance threw them together again. Of course, he
had noticed Theodora North that first night. How could a man help
noticing her? And the something beautifully over-awed and bashfully
curious in her lovely, uncommon eyes, had half amused him. And yet,
until this moment, he had forgotten her, with the assistance of proofs,
and printers, and Priscilla.

But when, after running lightly up the stair-case, he opened the
drawing-room door, and saw a tall, lovely figure in a closely-fitting
dress of purple cloth, bending over Sabre, and stroking his huge, tawny
head with her supple little tender hand, he remembered.

"Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, in an admiring aside. "To be sure; I had
forgotten Theodora."

But Theodora had not forgotten him. The moment she saw him she stood up
blushing, and with a light in her eyes. It was odd how un-English she
looked, and yet how thoroughly English she was in that delicious,
uncomfortable trick of blushing vividly upon all occasions. She was
quite unconscious of the fact that the purple cloth was so becoming, and
that its sweep of straight, heavy folds made her as stately as some
Rajah's dark-eyed daughter. She did not feel stately at all; she only
felt somewhat confused, and rather glad that Mr. Denis Oglethorpe had
surprised her by coming again. How Mr. Denis Oglethorpe would have
smiled if he had known what an innocent commotion his simple presence
created!

"Lady Throckmorton is up-stairs reading," she explained. "I will go and
tell her you are here." There were no bells in the house at Downport,
and no servants to answer if any one had rang one, and, very naturally,
Theo forgot she was not at Downport.

"Excuse me. No," said Mr. Denis Oglethorpe. "I would not disturb her on
any account; and, besides, I know she will be down directly. She never
reads late in the evening. This is a very handsome dog, Miss North."

"Very handsome, indeed," was Theo's reply. "Come here, Sabre."

Sabre stalked majestically to her side, and laid his head upon her knee.
Theo stroked him softly, raising her eyes quite seriously to Mr.
Oglethorpe's face.

"He reminds me of Sir Dugald himself," she said.

Mr. Denis Oglethorpe smiled faintly. He was not very fond of Sir Dugald,
and the perfect gravity and _naivete_ with which this pretty,
unsophisticated young sultana had made her comment had amounted to a
very ex