fore you met Jim Airth."

"I wish you would not keep on alluding to Jim Airth," said Myra, wearily.
"I never wish to hear his name again. And I cannot allow you to suppose
that I should ever have adopted your strong-minded suggestion, and
admitted to Michael that I loved Jim. I should have done nothing of the
kind. I should have devoted myself to pleasing Michael in all things, and
_made myself_--yes, Jane; you need not look amused and incredulous;
though I _don't_ wear collars and shooting-boots, I _can_ make myself do
things--I should have made myself forget that there was such a person in
this world as the Earl of Airth and Monteith."

"Oh spare him that!" laughed Mrs. Dalmain. "Don't call the poor man by
his titles. If he must be hanged, at least let him hang as plain Jim
Airth. If one had to be wicked, it would be so infinitely worse to be a
wicked earl, than wicked in any other walk of life. It savours so
painfully of the 'penny-dreadful', or the cheap novelette. Also, my dear,
there is nothing to be gained by discussing a hypothetical situation,
with which you do not after all find yourself confronted. Mercifully,
Lord Ingleby is not coming back."

"Mercifully!" exclaimed Lady Ingleby. "Really, Jane, you are crude beyond
words, and most unsympathetic. You should have heard how tactfully the
doctor broke it to me, and how kindly he alluded to my loss."

"My dear Myra," said Mrs. Dalmain, "I don't waste sympathy on false
sentiment. And if Deryck had known you were already engaged to another
man, instead of devoting to you four hours of his valuable time, he could
have sent a sixpenny wire: 'Telegram a forgery. Accept heartfelt
congratulations!'"

"Jane, you are brutal. And seeing that I have just told you the whole
story of these last weeks, with the cruel heart-breaking finale of
yesterday, I fail to understand how you can speak of me as engaged to
another man."

Instantly Jane Dalmain's whole bearing altered. She ceased looking
quizzically amused, and left off swinging her brown boot. She sat up,
uncrossed her knees, and leaning her elbows upon them, held out her large
capable hands to Lady Ingleby. Her noble face, grandly strong and tender,
in its undeniable plainness, was full of womanly understanding and
sympathy.

"Ah, my dear," she said, "now we must come to the crux of the whole
matter. I have merely been playing around the fringe of the subject, in
order to give you time to recover from the inevita