they would a--a rattlesnake."

"I cannot see why being engaged should spoil your fun."

"But it would for all that. Come now, Ted, be candid: how often were
you in love before you met me?"

"Never." With the vehemence of a thousand oaths.

"Well, then, to put it differently, how many girls did you like?"

"Like?" Reluctantly. "Oh, as for that, I suppose I did fancy I liked a
few girls."

"Just so; and I should like to like a few men," says Miss Massereene,
triumphantly.

"You don't know what you are talking about," says Tedcastle, hotly.

"Indeed I do. That is just one of the great points which the defenders
of women's rights forget to expatiate upon. A man may love as often as
he chooses, while a woman must only love once, or he considers himself
very badly used. Why not be on an equal footing? Not that I want to
love any one," says Molly; "only it is the injustice of the thing I
abhor."

"Love any one you choose," says Tedcastle, passionately, springing to
his feet, "Shadwell or any other fellow that comes in your way, I
shan't interfere. It is hardly necessary for you to say you don't 'want
to love one.' Your heart is as cold as ice. It is high time this
engagement--this farce--should come to an end."

"If you wish it," says Molly, quietly, in a subdued tone, yet as she
says it she moves one step--no more--closer to him.

"But I do not wish it; that is my cruel fate!" cries the young man,
taking both her hands and laying them over his heart with a despairing
tenderness. "There are none happy save those incapable of knowing a
lasting affection. Oh, Molly!"--remorsefully--"forgive me. I am
speaking to you as I ought not. It is all my beastly temper; though I
used not to be ill-tempered," says he, with sad wonder. "At home and
among our fellows I was always considered rather easy-going than
otherwise. I think the knowledge that I must part from you on Thursday
(though only for a short time) is embittering me."

"Then you are really sorry to leave me?" questions Molly, peering up at
him from under her straw hat.

"You know I am."

"But very sorry,--desperately so?"

"Yes." Gravely, and with something that is almost tears in his eyes.
"Why do you ask me, Molly? Is it not palpable enough?"

"It is not. You look just the same as ever,--quite as
'easy-going'"--with a malicious pout--"as either your 'home' or your
'fellows' could desire. I quite buoyed myself up with the hope that I
should see you reduced