was her pride and pleasure to introduce
him everywhere. Her friends put up with him for her sake; to please her
made him welcome, did their best to like him, and disguised their
failure. The free entry to a places of amusement saved his limited
purse. Her influence, he had instinct enough to perceive, could not fail
to be of use to him in his profession: that of a barrister. She praised
him to prominent solicitors, took him to tea with judges' wives,
interested examiners on his behalf. In return he overlooked her many
disadvantages, and did not fail to let her know it. Miss Ramsbotham's
gratitude was boundless.

"I do so wish I were younger and better looking," she sighed to the bosom
friend. "For myself, I don't mind; I have got used to it. But it is so
hard on Reggie. He feels it, I know he does, though he never openly
complains."

"He would be a cad if he did," answered Susan Fossett, who having tried
conscientiously for a month to tolerate the fellow, had in the end
declared her inability even to do more than avoid open expression of
cordial dislike. "Added to which I don't quite see of what use it would
be. You never told him you were young and pretty, did you?"

"I told him, my dear," replied Miss Ramsbotham, "the actual truth. I
don't want to take any credit for doing so; it seemed the best course.
You see, unfortunately, I look my age. With most men it would have made
a difference. You have no idea how good he is. He assured me he had
engaged himself to me with his eyes open, and that there was no need to
dwell upon unpleasant topics. It is so wonderful to me that he should
care for me--he who could have half the women in London at his feet."

"Yes, he's the type that would attract them, I daresay," agreed Susan
Fossett. "But are you quite sure that he does?--care for you, I mean."

"My dear," returned Miss Ramsbotham, "you remember Rochefoucauld's
definition. 'One loves, the other consents to be loved.' If he will
only let me do that I shall be content. It is more than I had any right
to expect."

"Oh, you are a fool," told her bluntly her bosom friend.

"I know I am," admitted Miss Ramsbotham; "but I had no idea that being a
fool was so delightful."

Bohemia grew day by day more indignant and amazed. Young Peters was not
even a gentleman. All the little offices of courtship he left to her. It
was she who helped him on with his coat, and afterwards adjusted her own
cloak; she who