after his arrival, Muriel had been to Roland Bleke
a mere automaton, a something outside himself that was made only for
neatly-laid breakfast tables and silent removal of plates at dinner.
Gradually, however, when his natural shyness was soothed by use
sufficiently to enable him to look at her when she came into the room,
he discovered that she was a strikingly pretty girl, bounded to the
North by a mass of auburn hair and to the South by small and shapely
feet. She also possessed what, we are informed--we are children in these
matters ourselves--is known as the R. S. V. P. eye. This eye had met
Roland's one evening, as he chumped his chop, and before he knew what he
was doing he had remarked that it had been a fine day.

From that wonderful moment matters had developed at an incredible speed.
Roland had a nice sense of the social proprieties, and he could not
bring himself to ignore a girl with whom he had once exchanged easy
conversation about the weather. Whenever she came to lay his table, he
felt bound to say something. Not being an experienced gagger, he found
it more and more difficult each evening to hit on something bright,
until finally, from sheer lack of inspiration, he kissed her.

If matters had progressed rapidly before, they went like lightning then.
It was as if he had touched a spring or pressed a button, setting vast
machinery in motion. Even as he reeled back stunned at his audacity, the
room became suddenly full of Coppins of every variety known to science.
Through a mist he was aware of Mrs. Coppin crying in a corner, of
Mr. Coppin drinking his health in the remains of sparkling limado,
of Brothers Frank and Percy, one on each side trying to borrow
simultaneously half-crowns, and of Muriel, flushed but demure, making
bread-pellets and throwing them in an abstracted way, one by one, at the
Coppin cat, which had wandered in on the chance of fish.

Out of the chaos, as he stood looking at them with his mouth open, came
the word "bans," and smote him like a blast of East wind.

It is not necessary to trace in detail Roland's mental processes from
that moment till the day when he applied to Mr. Fineberg for a
reduction of salary. It is enough to say that for quite a month he was
extraordinarily happy. To a man who has had nothing to do with women, to
be engaged is an intoxicating experience, and at first life was one
long golden glow to Roland. Secretly, like all mild men, he had always
nourished a