about that darned girl!"

Archie blinked.

"What!"

"That darned girl!"

Archie could scarcely credit his senses. He had been prepared--indeed,
he had steeled himself--to hear Bill allude to his affinity in a number
of ways. But "that darned girl" was not one of them.

"Companion of my riper years," he said, "let's get this thing straight.
When you say 'that darned girl,' do you by any possibility allude to--?"

"Of course I do!"

"But, William, old bird--"

"Oh, I know, I know, I know!" said Bill, irritably. "You're surprised to
hear me talk like that about her?"

"A trifle, yes. Possibly a trifle. When last heard from, laddie, you
must recollect, you were speaking of the lady as your soul-mate, and
at least once--if I remember rightly--you alluded to her as your little
dusky-haired lamb."

A sharp howl escaped Bill.

"Don't!" A strong shudder convulsed his frame. "Don't remind me of it!"

"There's been a species of slump, then, in dusky-haired lambs?"

"How," demanded Bill, savagely, "can a girl be a dusky-haired lamb when
her hair's bright scarlet?"

"Dashed difficult!" admitted Archie.

"I suppose Lucille told you about that?"

"She did touch on it. Lightly, as it were. With a sort of gossamer
touch, so to speak."

Bill threw off the last fragments of reserve.

"Archie, I'm in the devil of a fix. I don't know why it was, but
directly I saw her--things seemed so different over in England--I mean."
He swallowed ice-water in gulps. "I suppose it was seeing her with
Lucille. Old Lu is such a thoroughbred. Seemed to kind of show her
up. Like seeing imitation pearls by the side of real pearls. And that
crimson hair! It sort of put the lid on it." Bill brooded morosely. "It
ought to be a criminal offence for women to dye their hair. Especially
red. What the devil do women do that sort of thing for?"

"Don't blame me, old thing. It's not my fault."

Bill looked furtive and harassed.

"It makes me feel such a cad. Here am I, feeling that I would give all
I've got in the world to get out of the darned thing, and all the time
the poor girl seems to be getting fonder of me than ever."

"How do you know?" Archie surveyed his brother-in-law critically.
"Perhaps her feelings have changed too. Very possibly she may not like
the colour of YOUR hair. I don't myself. Now if you were to dye yourself
crimson--"

"Oh, shut up! Of course a man knows when a girl's fond of him."

"By no means, laddie. When yo