'm precious poor company," said Charlie.

"I didn't want you to be company at all," answered Miss Bellairs, and
she sloped her parasol until it obstructed his view of her face.

"I'm awfully sorry, but I can't stand the sort of rot Deane and Laing
are talking."

"Can't you? Neither can I."

"They never seem to be serious about anything, you know," and Charlie
sighed deeply, and for three minutes there was silence.

"Do you know Scotland at all?" asked Charlie at last.

"Only a little."

"There last year?"

"No, I was in Switzerland."

"Oh."

"Do you know Interlaken?"

"No."

"Oh."

"May I have a cigarette?"

"Of course, if you like."

Charlie lit his cigarette and smoked silently for a minute or two.

"I call this a beastly place," said he.

"Yes, horrid," she answered, and the force of sympathy made her move
the parasol and turn her face towards her companion. "But I thought,"
she continued, "you came here every spring?"

"Oh, I don't mind the place so much. It's the people."

"Yes, isn't it? I know what you mean."

"You can't make a joke of everything, can you?"

"Indeed no," sighed Dora.

Charlie looked at his cigarette, and, his eyes carefully fixed on it,
said in a timid tone:

"What's the point, for instance, of talking as if love was all bosh?"

Dora's parasol swept down again swiftly, but Charlie was still looking
at the cigarette and he did not notice its descent, nor could he see
that Miss Bellairs's cheek was no longer sallow.

"It's such cheap rot," he continued, "and when a fellow's--I say, Miss
Bellairs, I'm not boring you?"

The parasol wavered and finally moved.

"No," said Miss Bellairs.

"I don't know whether you--no, I mustn't say that; but I know what it
is to be in love, Miss Bellairs; but what's the good of talking about
it? Everybody laughs."

Miss Bellairs put down her parasol.

"I shouldn't laugh," she said softly. "It's horrid to laugh at people
when they're in trouble," and her eyes were very sympathetic.

"You are kind. I don't mind talking about it to you. You know I'm not
the sort of fellow who falls in love with every girl he meets; so of
course it's worse when I do."

"Was it just lately?" murmured Dora.

"Last summer."

"Ah! And--and didn't she----?"

"Oh, I don't know. Yes, hang it, I believe she did. She was perfectly
straight, Miss Bellairs. I don't say a word against her. She-I think
she didn't know her own feelings until--until I sp