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"Well, why not?" says Captain Rodney, undaunted by this small snub. "It is far more difficult to talk than sense. Any fellow can do that. If I were to tell you that Nolly is sound asleep, and that if he lurches even half a degree more to the right he will presently be lost to sight among the glowing embers" (Nolly rouses himself with a start), "you would probably tell me I was a very silly fellow to waste breath over such a palpable fact, but it would be sense nevertheless. I hope I haven't disturbed you, Nolly? On such a night as this a severe scorching would perhaps be a thing to be desired.",

As things are, however, she is able to smile pleasantly at Mrs. Carson, and tell her in her soft voice that Lady Rodney is at home.,

"It is really nothing," says Nolly, feverishly. "You have all heard it before.",

It is the first time he has ever used the tone of authority towards her, and involuntarily she shrinks from him, and glances up at him from under her long lashes in a half frightened, half-reproachful fashion, as might an offended child.

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Opposite to her is a pig, sitting quite erect, and staring at her blankly, without the slightest regard to etiquette or nice feeling. He is plainly full of anxiety, yet without power to express it, except in so far as his tail may aid him, which is limp and prostrate, its very curl being a thing of the past. If any man has impugned the sagacity of pigs, that man has erred!,

"It is quite simple: there is no deception," says Mr. Darling, addressing the room, with gracious encouragement in his tone, shrugging his shoulders and going through all the airs and graces that belong to the orthodox French showman.,

As Mona comes still nearer, the words of the speaker reach her, and sink into her brain. It is Lady Rodney who is holding forth, and what she says floats lightly to Mona's ears. She is still advancing, unmindful of anything but the fact that she cannot see Geoffrey again for more hours than she cares to count, when the following words become clear to her, and drive the color from her cheeks,—,

Not that he himself is at all aware of the evil case into which he has fallen. He feels not the arrow in his heart, or the tender bands that slowly but surely are winding themselves around him,—steel bands, decked out and hidden by perfumed flowers. As yet he feels no pang; and, indeed, were any one to even hint at such a thing, he would have laughed aloud at the idea of his being what is commonly termed "in love."