Captain Ripley alone, with the penetration born of jealousy, attributed Dale's presence simply and solely to the same motive as had produced his own, to wit, a desire to be where Miss Delane was. The Captain was a little sore; he had known Janet from childhood, they had exchanged many children's vows, and when he was sixteen and she thirteen she had accepted a Twelfth Night cake ring from him. The flirtation had always proceeded in its gentle, ambling course, and the Captain had returned on long leave with the idea that it was time to put the natural termination in the way of being reached. Janet disappointed him; she ridiculed his tender references to bygone days, characterizing what had passed as boy-and-girl nonsense, and perseveringly kept their intercourse on a dull level of friendliness. On the other hand, whatever might be the nature of her acquaintance with Dale Bannister, it was at least clear that it was marked by no such uneventful monotony. Sometimes she would hardly speak to him; at others she cared to speak to no one else. The Captain would have profited ill by the opportunities a residence in garrison towns offers if he had not recognized that these changeful relations were fraught with peril to his hopes. At the bazaar, for example, he was so much moved by a long conversation between Janet and Dale, which took place over the handing of a cup of tea, that he unburdened himself to his friend Sir Harry Fulmer. Now Sir Harry was in a bad temper; he had his object in attending as the Captain had, and Colonel Smith had just told him that Tora was not coming. "Who is the fellow?" demanded Captain Ripley. "Writes poetry." "I never heard of him." "I dare say not. It's not much in your line, is it?" "Well, he's a queer-looking beggar." "Think so? Now I call him a good-looking chap." "Why the deuce doesn't he get his hair cut?" "Don't know. Perhaps Janet Delane likes it long." "I hate that sort of fellow, Harry." "He's not a bad chap." "Does the Squire like him?" "I don't know, and I don't care. How beastly hot this room is! I shall go." "I say, Harry, I've only just come back, you know. Is there anything on?" "Well, if you want to take a hand, I should cut in pretty sharp," said Sir Harry, elbowing his way to the door. Captain Ripley, impatiently refusing to buy a negro doll which the Vicar's daughter pressed on his favorable notice, leaned against the wall and grimly regarded Dale Bannister. The latter was just saying: "Have you looked at the verses at all, Miss Delane?" "I have read every one, over and over. They are splendid." "Oh, I'm new to that sort of thing." "Yes, but it's so--such a joy to me to see you doing what is really worthy of you." "If there is any credit, it's yours." "Now why do you say that? It isn't true, and it just spoils it." "Spoils it?" said Dale, who thought girls liked compliments.