ke out in her voice of joy: "He's here--he's here--he's coming
back in a moment!"

"Ah your father?" Paul returned as she offered him her hand.

"Oh dear no, this isn't in my poor father's line. I mean Mr. St. George.
He has just left me to speak to some one--he's coming back. It's he who
brought me--wasn't it charming?"

"Ah that gives him a pull over me--I couldn't have 'brought' you, could
I?"

"If you had been so kind as to propose it--why not you as well as he?"
the girl returned with a face that, expressing no cheap coquetry, simply
affirmed a happy fact.

"Why he's a pere de famille. They've privileges," Paul explained. And
then quickly: "Will you go to see places with _me_?" he asked.

"Anything you like!" she smiled. "I know what you mean, that girls have
to have a lot of people--" Then she broke off: "I don't know; I'm free.
I've always been like that--I can go about with any one. I'm so glad to
meet you," she added with a sweet distinctness that made those near her
turn round.

"Let me at least repay that speech by taking you out of this squash," her
friend said. "Surely people aren't happy here!"

"No, they're awfully mornes, aren't they? But I'm very happy indeed and
I promised Mr. St. George to remain in this spot till he comes back. He's
going to take me away. They send him invitations for things of this
sort--more than he wants. It was so kind of him to think of me."

"They also send me invitations of this kind--more than _I_ want. And if
thinking of _you_ will do it--!" Paul went on.

"Oh I delight in them--everything that's life--everything that's London!"

"They don't have private views in Asia, I suppose," he laughed. "But
what a pity that for this year, even in this gorged city, they're pretty
well over."

"Well, next year will do, for I hope you believe we're going to be
friends always. Here he comes!" Miss Fancourt continued before Paul had
time to respond.

He made out St. George in the gaps of the crowd, and this perhaps led to
his hurrying a little to say: "I hope that doesn't mean I'm to wait till
next year to see you."

"No, no--aren't we to meet at dinner on the twenty-fifth?" she panted
with an eagerness as happy as his own.

"That's almost next year. Is there no means of seeing you before?"

She stared with all her brightness. "Do you mean you'd _come_?"

"Like a shot, if you'll be so good as to ask me!"

"On Sunday then--this next Sunday?"

"What h