s. He's engaged! He met the Grangers on their tour round the
world--you know them, the great cotton people?--at Sydney, and he's
engaged to the youngest girl, Violet--you remember her? It all happened
in a fortnight. Mary and Lord Eynesford are delighted. It's just
perfect. She's very pretty, and tremendously well off. I do declare, I
never thought Dick would end so well! What a happy thought it was
sending him away! Aren't you delighted?"

"It sounds very nice, doesn't it? I don't think I knew her more than
just to speak to."

"Dick'll be here in four days. I've been looking for you to tell you for
the last hour. Where have you been?"

"In the Park."

"Alone, as usual, you hermit?"

"Well, I met the Medlands and Mr. Norburn, and talked to them for a
little while."

"Alicia! But it's no use talking to you. Come and find Mary."

"No, Eleanor, I'm tired, and--and hot. I'll go to my room."

"Oh, you must come and see her first."

"I can't."

"She'll be hurt, Alicia. She'll think you don't care. Come, dear."

"Tell her--tell her I'm coming directly. Eleanor, you must let me go,"
and breaking away she fled into the house.

Eleanor went alone to seek Lady Eynesford. Somehow Alicia's words had
quenched her high spirits for the moment.

"Poor child! I do hope she hasn't been foolish," she mused. "Surely
after what Mary told her--! Oh dear, I'm afraid it isn't all as happy as
it is about Dick!"

And then she indulged in some very cynical meditations on the advantages
of being a person of shallow emotions and changeful fancies, until she
was roused by the sight of Medland and Norburn walking up to the house,
to attend the Executive Council. From the window she closely watched
the Premier as he approached; her mood wavered to and fro, but at last
she summed up her impressions by remarking,

"Well, I suppose one might."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE STORY OF A PHOTOGRAPH.

Mr. Coxon may be forgiven for being, on this same important Monday, in a
state of some nervous excitement. He had a severe attack of what are
vulgarly called "the fidgets," and Sir John, who was spending the
morning at the Club (for his court was not sitting), glanced at him over
his eye-glasses with an irritated look. The ex-Attorney-General would
not sit still, but flitted continually from window to table, and back
from table to window, taking up and putting down journal after journal.
Much depended, in Mr. Coxon's view, on the event of th