tranger to whom he had poured it out.

Under a flaring gas-lamp, Cheveril stood still.

"Do you mind telling me your name?" he said abruptly.

That roused the boy slightly. "My name is Willowby," he answered--"James
Willowby."

He looked at Cheveril with a dawning wonder, and the latter uttered a
short, grim laugh. The light streamed full upon his face.

"You know me well, don't you," he said, "by sight?"

Young Willowby gave a great start and turned crimson. He offered neither
apology nor excuse.

"I like you for that," Cheveril said, after a moment. "Can you bring
yourself to shake hands?"

There was unmistakable friendliness in his tone, and Willowby responded
to it promptly. He was a sportsman at heart, however he might rail at
circumstance.

As their hands met, he looked up with a queer, mirthless smile.

"I hope you are going to be good to her," he said.

"I am going to be good to you both," said Lester Cheveril quietly.

In the silence that followed his words, the band on the pier became
audible on a sudden gust of wind. It was gaily jigging out the tune of
"The Girl I Left Behind Me."

* * * * *

"What a secluded corner, Miss Harford! May I join you?"

Evelyn Harford looked up with a start of dismay. He was the last person
in the world with whom she desired a _tete-a-tete_; but he was dining at
her father's house, and she could not well refuse. Reluctantly she laid
aside the paper on her knee.

"I thought you were playing bridge," she said, in a chilly tone.

"I cried off," said Cheveril.

He stood looking down at her with shrewd, kindly eyes. But the girl was
too intent upon making her escape to notice his expression.

"Won't you go to the billiard-room?" she said. "They are playing pool."

He shook his head.

"I came here expressly to talk to you," he said.

"Oh!" said Evelyn.

She leaned back in her chair, and tried to appear at her ease; but her
heart was thumping tumultuously. The man was going to propose, she
knew--she knew; and she was not ready for him. She felt that she would
break down ignominiously if he pressed his suit just then.

Cheveril, however, seemed in no hurry. He sat down facing her, and there
followed a pause, during which she felt that he was studying her
attentively.

Growing desperate at length, she looked him in the face, and spoke.

"I am not a very lively companion to-night, Mr. Cheveril," she said.
"That is why I came a