"Um, left you to do the honours."

"Exactly so, and I did them. Saw the crowd, saw the gees, had lunch--you know the programme."

"Only too well. Do any betting?"

"A little."

"Thought it was against your principles. You told me so once."

"I--I didn't bet--that is----"

"Oh, I see. She did."

"Rather--a good round sum."

"You knew the amount?"

"Well, the fact is--she'd given her uncle her pocket-book, and he got lost."

"Clever uncle; so you paid the reckoning."

"She said she knew the winning horse."

"We always do know the winners."

"This was an exception to prove the rule."

"So you put down--and she never paid up."

"Youth is forgetful, and of course--you can't dun a lady."

"No--you can't dun a _lady_!"

"Look here!" cried Stanley. "I won't stand that sort of thing!"

"Beg your pardon, I was thinking aloud, beastly bad habit, purely reminiscent, I a.s.sure you. Go on."

"Well, of course I saw something of her after that. Aunt invited me to call, also to dine."

"What about that trip down the Thames?"

"Why, I'd arranged my party for that before I met Belle--I mean Miss Fitzgerald."

"Oh, call her Belle, I know you do."

"And she happened to mention, quite accidentally, that one of her unaccomplished ideals was a trip down the Thames. I fear she's shockingly cramped for money you know, so as I happened to have a vacant place----"

"You naturally invited her-- I wonder how she found out there was a vacant place," mused Kent-Lauriston.

"My dear fellow," reiterated Stanley. "I tell you she didn't even know I was getting it up. Of course if she had, she'd never have spoken of it.

Miss Fitzgerald is far above touting for an invitation."

"Of course. Well you must have advanced considerably in your acquaintance during the trip. Had her quite to yourself, as it were, since I suppose she knew none of the party."

"Oh, but she did. She knew Lieutenant Kingsland."

"To be sure. He was the man who wagered her a dozen dozen pairs of gloves that she wouldn't swim her horse across the Serpentine in Hyde Park."

"And she won, by Jove! I can tell you she has pluck."

"And they were both arrested in consequence. I think the Lieutenant owed her some reparation, and I must say a trip down the Thames was most _a propos_."

"Look here, Kent-Lauriston, if you're insinuating that Kingsland put her up to----"

"Far from it, my boy, how could I insinuate anything so unlikely? Well, what other unattainable luxuries did you bestow?"

"Nothing more to speak of--why, yes. Do you know the poor little thing had never seen Irving, or been inside the Lyceum?"

"So you gave the 'poor little thing' a box party, and a champagne supper at the Savoy afterwards, I'll be bound, and yet surely it was at the Lyceum that----"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, I was becoming reminiscent once more; it's a bad habit.

Let's have the rest of it."

"There isn't much more to tell. I've ridden with her sometimes in the Park. Given her a dinner at the Wellington, a few teas at the Hyde Park Club. I think that's all--flowers perhaps, nothing in the least compromising."

"Compromising! Why, it's enough to have married you to three English girls."

"She's Irish."

"I beg her pardon," and Kent-Lauriston bowed in mock humility.

"What do you think of my case, honestly?"

"Honestly, I think she means to have you, and if I was a betting man, I'd lay the odds on her chances of winning."

"Confound you!" broke in Stanley. "You've such a beastly way of taking the words out of a man's mouth and twisting them round to mean something else. Here I started in to tell you of my acquaintance with Miss Fitzgerald, and by the time I've finished you've made it appear as if her actions had been those of an adventuress, a keen, unprincipled, up-to-date Becky Sharp. Why, you've hardly left her a shred of character. I swear you wrong her, she's not what you've made me make her out,--not at all like that."

"What is she like then?"

"She is a poor girl without resources or near relations, thrown on the world in that most anomalous of positions, shabby gentility; who has to endure no end of petty insults; insults, covert, if not open, from men like you, who ought to know better. I tell you she's good and straight, straight as a die; brave, fearless, plucky--isn't the word for it. A little headstrong, perhaps, and careless of what the world may say, but whom has she had to teach her better? There's no harm in her though. Of that I'm sure. And underneath an exterior of what may seem flippancy, her heart rings true; but you're so prejudiced you'll never admit it."

"On the contrary," replied his friend, lighting another cigarette, "I'm perfectly willing to agree to nearly all that you have just said in her favour--all that is of vital importance, at least. I know something of this young lady's career, and I'm prepared to say I don't believe there is anything bad in her. She has to live by her wits, and they must be sharp in consequence; and having to carve out her own destiny instead of having a mother to do so for her, she has become self-reliant, and to some extent careless of the impression she makes, which has given her a reputation for indiscretion which she really does not deserve. She's certainly charming, and undeniably dashing, though whether it arises from bravery or foolhardiness, I'm not prepared to say; but one thing I can state most emphatically--you're not the man to marry her."

"And why not, pray?"

"Because you're too good for her."