er. She was leaning
her head on her hand, and her elbow on a vague shelf or balcony. The
photograph was oval in shape, and looked as if the lady were looking out
of a window. At the base of the window was a kind of board, on which was
written in her own handwriting, magnified (in white letters, relieved on
black), the beautiful words, "Yours truly, Mary Crofton."

"You are an idiot, Felicity!" said Savile angrily. "You make fun of
everything! I gave it you by mistake. I took it from Aunt William's
album for a joke. Give it me."

"Don't snatch! I want another prehistoric peep--and now tell me the real
person, dear," said Felicity, trying not to laugh.

"Oh no, you don't! I just shan't now."

"Mayn't I see the real one?"

Savile, after a glance at Aunt William, gave a short laugh, and said,
putting it away--

"Look here, and try to listen. This is how I stand. Last holidays, at
Christmas, I proposed to Dolly Clive in the square. She accepted me.
Very well. This holidays, I saw some one else; what is a fellow to do?
And then I went completely off my head about her, as any chap with a
grain of sense would do, and Doll's no more to me now than----"

"Aunt William," said Lady Chetwode.

"As a gentleman, I'm bound to Dolly; though, _don't_ forget I always
told her that if when she came out she met a chap she liked better, she
was quite free; (not but what I jolly well intended to punch the chap's
head). Still, there it was! Then this happens! And this time I fell
really in love."

"Where?"

"Never mind where. At a concert."

"But what concert, Savile?"

"_A_ concert."

"Whose concert? You've only been to one in your life. I know----the
Albert Hall!"

"You've hit in once, my dear."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Adelina Patti."

Savile got up and looked out of the window.

Felicity looked serious. Then she said gaily--

"Poor old boy! I think, dear, you should try and forget it."

"I can't, Felicity! She haunts me! Oh, the way she sings 'Comin through
the Rye!' She's simply--well, ripping's the only word!"

"It's hereditary. You're just like papa. He was madly in love with her
once."

"Only once!" Savile was contemptuous.

"Well, Savile dear, anyhow I advise you to break it off definitely with
Dolly. She's only just fourteen now, and it would interfere with her
lessons. Besides, I know her mother wants her to go in for Physical
Culture during the holidays. What are those exercises--Swedenborgian or
something-