nd. Is it
Venus," saucily, "or Helen of Troy, I most closely resemble? or am I
'something more exquisite still'? It puzzles me why you should think so
very highly of my personal charms. Ted," leaning forward to look into
her lover's eyes, "tell me this. Have you been much away? Abroad, I
mean, on the Continent and that?"

"Well, yes, pretty much so."

"Have you been to Paris?"

"Oh, yes, several times."

"Brussels?"

"Yes."

"Vienna?"

"No. I wait to go there with you."

"Rome?"

"Yes, twice. The governor was fond of sending us abroad between the
ages of seventeen and twenty-five,--to enlarge our minds, he said; to
get rid of us, he meant."

"Are there many of you?"

"An awful lot. I would be ashamed to say how many. Ours was indeed a
'numerous father.'"

"He isn't dead?" asks Molly, in a low tone befitting the occasion in
case he should be.

"Oh no: he is alive and kicking," replies Mr. Luttrell, with more force
than elegance. "And I hope he will keep on so for years to come. He is
about the best friend I have, or am likely to have."

"I hope he won't keep up the kicking part of it," says Molly, with a
delicious laugh that ripples through the air and shows her utter
enjoyment of her own wit. Not to laugh when Molly laughs, is
impossible; so Luttrell joins her, and they both make merry over his
vulgarity. In all the world, what is there sweeter than the happy,
penetrating, satisfying laughter of unhurt youth?

"Lucky you, to have seen so much already," says Molly, presently, with
an envious sigh; "and yet," with a view to self-support, "what good has
it done you? Not one atom. After all your traveling you can do nothing
greater than fall absurdly in love with a village maiden. Will your
father call that enlarging your mind?"

"I hope so," concealing his misgivings on the point. "But why put it so
badly? Instead of village maiden, say the loveliest girl I ever met."

"What!" cries Molly, the most naive delight and satisfaction animating
her tone; "after going through France, Germany, Italy, and India, you
can honestly say I am the loveliest woman you ever met?"

"You put it too mildly," says Luttrell, raising himself on his elbow to
gaze with admiration at the charming face above him, "I can say more.
You are ten thousand times the loveliest woman I ever met."

Molly smiles, nay, more, she fairly dimples. Try as she will and does,
she cannot conceal the pleasure it gives her to hear her praises