ing him up. The devil!"

"What's the matter now?" inquired the General.

"Why, I've just remembered that I promised to say nothing about it. I
say, don't you repeat it, General, nor you either, Laing."

The General laughed.

"Well," said Sir Roger, "he oughtn't to have been such a fool as to
tell me. He knows I never remember to keep things dark. It's not my
fault."

A girl came out of the hotel and strolled up to where the group was.
She was dark, slight, and rather below middle height; her complexion at
this moment was a trifle sallow and her eyes listless, but it seemed
rather as though she had dressed her face into a tragic cast, the set
of the features being naturally mirthful. She acknowledged the men's
salutations and sat down with a sigh.

"Not on to-day?" asked Sir Roger, waving his cigar toward the
lawn-tennis courts.

"No," said Miss Bellairs.

"Are you seedy, Dolly?" inquired the General.

"No," said Miss Bellairs.

Mr. Laing fixed his eye-glass and surveyed the young lady.

"Are you taking any?" said he, indicating the jug.

"I don't see any fun in vulgarity," observed Miss Bellairs.

The General smiled. Sir Roger's lips assumed the shape for a whistle.

"That's a nasty one for me," said Laing.

"Ah, here you are, Roger," exclaimed a fresh clear voice from behind
the chairs. "I've been looking for you everywhere. We've seen
everything--Mr. Ellerton was most kind--and I do so want to tell you my
impressions."

The new-comer was Lady Deane, a tall young woman, plainly dressed in a
serviceable cloth walking-gown. By her side stood Charlie Ellerton in a
flannel suit of pronounced striping; he wore a little yellow mustache,
had blue eyes and curly hair, and his face was tanned a wholesome
ruddy-brown. He looked very melancholy.

"Letters from Hell," murmured Sir Roger.

"But I was so distressed," continued his wife. "Mr. Ellerton would
gamble, and he lost ever so much money."

"A fellow must amuse himself," remarked Charlie gloomily, and with
apparent unconsciousness he took a glass from Laing and drained it.

"Gambling and drink--what does that mean?" asked Sir Roger.

"Shut up, Deane," said Charlie.

Miss Bellairs rose suddenly and walked away. Her movement expressed
impatience with her surroundings. After a moment Charlie Ellerton
slowly sauntered after her. She sat down on a garden-seat some way off.
Charlie placed himself at the opposite end. A long pause ensued.

"I'm afraid I