r--some one else!"

"A woman, I suppose?" Cheveril said.

He was aware that his companion glanced at him sharply through the
gloom, and knew that he was momentarily suspected of eavesdropping.

Then, with impulsive candour, the answer came:

"Yes; the girl I'm engaged to. She has got to stay behind and
marry--some one else."

Cheveril's teeth closed silently upon his lower lip. This, also, was one
of the things he knew.

"You can't trust her, then?" he said, after a pause.

"Oh, she cares for me--of course!" the boy answered. "But there isn't a
chance for us. They are all dead against me, and the other fellow will
be on the spot. He hasn't asked her yet, but he means to. And her people
will simply force her to accept him when he does. Of course they will!
He is Cheveril, the millionaire. You must have heard of him. Every one
has."

"I know him well," said Cheveril.

"So do I--by sight," the boy plunged on recklessly--"an undersized
little animal with a squint."

"I didn't know he squinted," Cheveril remarked into the darkness. "But,
anyhow, they can't make her marry against her will."

"Can't they?" returned the other fiercely. "I don't know what you call
it, then. They can make her life so positively unbearable that she will
have to give in, if it is only to get away from them. It's perfectly
fiendish; but they will do it. I know they will do it. She hasn't a
single friend to stand by her."

"Except you," said Cheveril.

They had nearly reached the water. The rush and splash of the waves held
something solemn in their harmonies, like the chords of a splendid
symphony. Cheveril heard the quick, indignant voice at his side like a
cry of unrest breaking through.

"What can I do?" it said. "I have never had a chance till now. I have
just had a berth in India offered to me; but I can't possibly hope to
support a wife for two years at least. And meanwhile--meanwhile----"

It stopped there; and a long wave broke with a roar, and rushed up in
gleaming foam almost to their feet. The younger man stepped back; but
Cheveril remained motionless, his face to the swirling water.

Quite suddenly at length he turned, as a man whose mind is made up, and
began to walk back to the dimly lighted parade. He marched straight up
the shingle, as if with a definite purpose in view, and mounted the
rickety iron ladder to the pavement.

His companion followed, too absorbed by his trouble to feel any
curiosity regarding the s