see a possible chance of winning _her_, why, then I shall be
very good.

"... 'Myes ... not very lofty ... but I want to be honest, and feel
pretty sure that is what I shall do.... No doubt I shall not be happy,
but...?"

With a dissatisfied growl he began to undress, and soon he was in bed.
To quiet his uneasy conscience before he fell asleep he muttered, "And
of course I shall do anything she tells me."

The unheroic but truthful pleasure-seeker then gave an unromantic snore.

CHAPTER V

THE PLOT THICKENS

A knock on his door roused Lionel at half past eight, and he sprang up
clear-eyed and joyous to meet the sun. The events of the previous day
sped pleasantly through his brain; and now that the morning was upon him
and the London sparrows twittering optimism, he could not dwell
seriously on the indignation of his hostess. "Oh, it is bound to be all
right!" he said to himself, stropping a razor that he found on the
dressing-table and whistling a merry tune. The cold tub strung him to a
higher mood, and as he plied the towel he broke into song. "_Horchen Sie
doch!_" said Mizzi approvingly to the cat, as she prepared breakfast and
heard the melodious strain: "_Er ist ein braver Kerl, der sich nicht
erzuernt. Er ist ein lustiger Geist, wirklich. Die anderen habe ich zum
Besten._" No doubt she was right.

Lionel breakfasted alone. Mizzi said that her mistress begged to be
excused for an hour; after that she would be ready. The maid lingered a
moment more than was necessary after bringing in the coffee, and seemed
markedly assiduous for his comfort. But Lionel did not detain her in
conversation; he had no intention of elaborating the _affaire_ of the
previous night. What amusement fell to his share he was ready to accept
with a youthful zest, but he was old enough not to pursue happiness too
zealously nor to magnify trifles. A kiss was well enough, provided it
embarrassed neither the recipient nor himself. He was never a man to
raise false hopes or win success by lies or a pretended love. His
philosophy embraced the theory that girls, or some of them at least,
liked being petted, and he was not averse from the kindly office. Only,
there must be a clear, if unspoken, understanding that he was not to be
taken _au serieux_. This philosophy, of course, did not apply to
Beatrice Blair: she was altogether outside routine. He was a butterfly,
if you like, but at any rate honest.

So when Mizzi hoped that monsie