f the circular ottoman on which I myself had taken my place.

She was talking merrily, and her hearers, in one of whom, as I glanced
over my shoulder, I recognized an ex-Cabinet Minister, seemed to be
greatly entertained. As her back was toward me, all I could see of the
lady herself was her short black hair falling over the handsome fur
collar of her mantle.

"He was so tragic about it," she was saying, "that it was really
_impayable_. The lady was beautiful, wealthy, accomplished, and I don't
know what else. The rival was an Australian squatter, with a beard as
thick as his native bush. My communicative friend--I scarcely knew even
his name when he poured forth his woes to me--thought that he had an
advantage in his light moustache, with a military twirl in it. They were
all three travelling in Switzerland, but the Australian had gone off to
make the ascent of some peak or other, leaving the field to the foe for
a couple of days at least. On the first day the foe made the most of his
time, and had nearly brought matters to a crisis. The next morning he
got himself up as exquisitely as possible, in order to clinch his
conquest, but found to his disgust that he had left his dressing-case
with his razors at the last stopping-place. There was nothing for it but
to try the village barber, who was also the village stationer, and
draper, and ironmonger, and chemist--a sort of Alpine Whiteley, in fact.
His face had just been soaped--what do you call it?--lathered, is it
not? and the barber had actually taken hold of his nose so as to get his
head into the right position, when, in the mirror opposite, he saw the
door open, and--oh, horror!--who should walk into the shop but the fair
one herself! He gave such a start that the barber gashed his chin. His
eyes met hers in the mirror; for a moment he saw her lips quiver and
tremble, and then she burst into shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, and
rushed out of the shop. If you knew the pompous little man, I am sure
you would sympathize with her. I know I did when he told me the story.
His heart sank within him, but he acted like a Briton. He determined to
take no notice of the _contretemps_, but return boldly to the attack.
She received him demurely at first, but the moment she raised her eyes
to his face, and saw the patch of sticking-plaster on his chin, she was
again seized with such convulsions that she had to rush from the room.
'She is now in Melbourne,' he said, almost with