I haven't a notion," murmured Charlie.

"Look here, what's your liquor, Laing?"

"Anything; with this thirst on me----"

"There are ample materials for a revolution more astonishing and
sanguinary----"

"Nonsense, General, yon must have something to drink."

"Can they have changed their minds again, Dolly?"

"They must have, if Mr. Laing is----"

"Dry? I should think I was. So would you be, if you'd been playing
tennis."

Laing cut across the currents of conversation:

"Hope no harm done, Miss Bellairs, about that wire?"

"I--I--I don't think so."

"Or yours, Charlie?"

Charlie took a hopeful view.

"Upon my honor, Laing, I'm glad you hid it."

"Oh, I see!" cried Laing. "Tip for the wrong 'un, eh, and too late to
put it on now?"

"You're not far off," answered Charlie Ellerton.

"Roger, is it to-night that the General is going to take me to the----"

"Hush! Not before Miss Bellairs, my dear! Consider her filial feelings.
You and the General must make a quiet bolt of it. We're only going to
the Palais-Royal."

The arrival of fish brought a momentary pause, but the first mouthful
was hardly swallowed when Arthur Laing started, hunted hastily for his
eyeglass, and stuck it in his eye.

"Yes, it is them," said he. "See, Charlie, that table over there.
They've got their backs to us, but lean see 'em in the mirror."

"See who?" asked Charlie in an irritable tone.

"Why, those honeymooners. I say, Lady Deane, it's a queer thing to have
a lady's-maid to breakf--Why, by Jove, she's with them now! Look!"

His excited interest aroused the attention of the whole party, and they
looked across the long room.

"Ashforth's their name," concluded Laing. "I heard the Abigail call him
Ashforth; and the lady is----"

He was interrupted by the clatter of a knife and fork falling on a
plate. He turned in the direction whence the sound came.

Dora Bellairs leant back in her chair, her hands in her lap; Charlie
Ellerton had hidden himself behind the wine-list. Lady Deane, her
husband, and the General gazed inquiringly at Dora.

At the same instant there came a shrill little cry from the other end
of the room. The mirror had served Mary Travers as well as it had
Laing. For a moment she spoke hastily to her companion; then she and
John rose, and, with radiant smiles on their faces, advanced toward
their friends. The long-expected meeting had come; at last.

Dora sat still, in consternation. Charlie, peeping ou