absolutely magnificent. It was evident that he had
momentarily forgotten his surroundings, and that his whole soul was in
sympathy with the picture before him. His eyes sparkled, and a dusky
pink shone through his clear olive cheeks. She continued to watch him
fixedly, with a look of interest upon her face, until he came out of his
reverie with a start, and turned abruptly round, so that his gaze met
hers. She glanced away at once, but his eyes remained fixed upon her for
some moments. The picture was forgotten already, and his soul had come
down to earth once more.

We caught sight of her once or twice before we left, and each time I
noticed my friend look after her. He made no remark, however, until we
got out into the open air, and were walking arm-in-arm along Princes
Street.

"Did you notice that beautiful woman, in the dark dress, with the white
fur?" he asked.

"Yes, I saw her," I answered.

"Do you know her?" he asked eagerly. "Have you any idea who she is?"

"I don't know her personally," I replied. "But I have no doubt I could
find out all about her, for I believe she is engaged to young Archie
Reeves, and he and I have a lot of mutual friends."

"Engaged!" ejaculated Cowles.

"Why, my dear boy," I said, laughing, "you don't mean to say you are so
susceptible that the fact that a girl to whom you never spoke in your
life is engaged is enough to upset you?"

"Well, not exactly to upset me," he answered, forcing a laugh. "But I
don't mind telling you, Armitage, that I never was so taken by any
one in my life. It wasn't the mere beauty of the face--though that was
perfect enough--but it was the character and the intellect upon it. I
hope, if she is engaged, that it is to some man who will be worthy of
her."

"Why," I remarked, "you speak quite feelingly. It is a clear case of
love at first sight, Jack. However, to put your perturbed spirit at
rest, I'll make a point of finding out all about her whenever I meet any
fellow who is likely to know."

Barrington Cowles thanked me, and the conversation drifted off into
other channels. For several days neither of us made any allusion to
the subject, though my companion was perhaps a little more dreamy
and distraught than usual. The incident had almost vanished from my
remembrance, when one day young Brodie, who is a second cousin of mine,
came up to me on the university steps with the face of a bearer of
tidings.

"I say," he began, "you know Reeves, don'