pretty girl," volunteered Chase glibly.

"Oh, she could marry like a flash in New York," said Britt. "A dozen men
I know of are crazy about her. Good-looking chaps, too," The sarcasm
escaped Saunders, who was fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Of course--you know--the breaking of the engagement--I should say the
row, wasn't of my doing," he submitted, pulling at his finger joints
nervously.

"I'm afraid it can't be patched up, either," said Britt dolefully.
"She's been insulted, you see--"

"Insulted? My eye! I wouldn't say anything to hurt her for the world. I
may have been agitated--very likely I said a sharp word or two. But as
for insulting her--never! She's told me herself a thousand times that
she doesn't mind the word 'damn' in the least. That may have misled
me--"

"Saunders, we can't have our only romance marred by a breach of promise
suit," said his lordship resolutely. "There is simply got to be a
wedding in the end or the whole world will hate us. Every romance must
have its young lovers, and even though it doesn't run smooth, love will
triumph. So far you have been our prize young lover. You are the
undisputed hero. Don't spoil everything at the last moment, Saunders.
Patch it up, and let's have a wedding in the last chapter. You should
not forget that it was you who advocated multi-marriage. Try it once for
yourself, and, if you like it, by Jove, we'll all come to your
succeeding marriages and bless you, no matter how many wives you take
unto yourself."

Saunders, very much impressed by these confidences, bowed himself out of
the room, followed by Britt, of whom he implored help in the effort to
bring about a reconciliation. He was sorely distressed by Britt's
apparent reluctance to compromise the case without mature deliberation.

"You see, old chap," mused Deppingham, after their departure, "matrimony
is no trifling thing, after all. No matter whether it contemplates a
garden in Hammersmith or an island in the South Seas, it has its
drawbacks."

The charity ball began at ten o'clock, schedule time. If all of those
who participated were not in perfect sympathy with the spirit of the mad
whim, they at least did not deport themselves after the fashion of wet
blankets. To be quite authentic, but two of the promoters were heartily
involved in the travesty--Lady Agnes, whose sprightliness was never
dormant, and Bobby Browne, who shone in the glamour of his first
encounter with the nobility. Drusilla Browne,