ous thrill through him; it
seemed to bring his sweetest hopes nearer realisation. The gay little
street vanished for an instant, and he was holding Mabel's hand in the
violet-scented drawing-room, but he came to himself almost directly
with a start.

'Who told you that?' he said, flushing slightly.

'Never mind who told me. Is it true? I--I warn you not to trifle with
me.'

'What on earth is the matter with you?' said Mark. 'No, it's not true;
as far as I know at present, there is not the remotest possibility of
such a thing coming to pass.'

'But you would make it possible if you could, eh?' asked Caffyn.

'I don't want to hurt your feelings, Caffyn,' said Mark, 'but really
you're going a little too far. And even if I had been engaged to Miss
Langton (which is very far from the case), I don't exactly see what
right you have, after--under the circumstances, you know--to go in for
the fire-eating business.'

'You mean I'm out of the running, whoever wins?' said Caffyn. 'I
daresay you're right; I'm not aware that I ever entered for the prize.
But never mind that. She has taken a dislike to me, but I may be
allowed to feel an interest in her still, I suppose. I should like to
see her happy, and if you could tell me that you were the man, why
then----'

'Well?' said Mark, as the other paused with a curious smile.

'Why, then I should feel at ease about her, don't you know,' he said
gently.

'I only wish I could ease your mind for you in that way,' said Mark,
'but it's too soon for that yet.'

'You _do_ mean to ask her, then?' said Caffyn, with his eyes on the
little brown-and-yellow imperial _postwagen_ which had just rattled up
to the hotel, and the driver of which, in his very unbecoming glazed
billycock hat with the featherbrush plume, was then cumbrously
descending from his box. Mark had not meant to confide in Caffyn at
all; he had only known him a short time, and, although their intimacy
had grown so rapidly, with a little more reflection he might have
shrunk from talking of Mabel to one whom, rightly or wrongly, she held
in abhorrence. But then Caffyn was so sympathetic, so subdued; the
temptation to talk of his love to somebody was so strong, that he did
not try to resist it.

'Yes, I do,' he said, and his dark eyes were soft and dreamy as he
spoke, 'some day ... if I dare. And if she says what I hope she will
say, I shall come to you, old fellow, for congratulations.'

He looked round, but Caffyn h