"I hope you love Williamson," he said, in a tone that he meant to sound bitterly cutting. "A girl who sells herself for money to such a man--" "Nonsense, Jim!" She rose also. "You'll find most of the world will consider it a good marriage; and anyhow, I have to look out for myself. It's too bad to break up the pleasant times we've had this winter; but you must not be angry. You will understand it better presently. I wouldn't let you go off in this way if I hadn't such a wretched headache; but you will come in again." Jim said good-evening with superb dignity. What a stylish fellow he was. Of course he felt a little "huffy" now; but next winter, when she had a home of her own, she would give attractive parties, and invite Jim among the very first. By that time he would be over his boyish folly. And now, what must she wear to the theatre to-night? She must look her prettiest. Her wretched headache was gone. James Underhill felt as he had sometimes in the old school days, that he had been duped. He was angry with her, with himself. He had brought his friends to the house; and he knew Weir was really in love with her, yet she had laughed daintily about some of his peculiarities. What if she had laughed with Gaynor about him? She did satirise people. It was strange how many faults he saw in her! Yet he did hate to have her marry Williamson. He heard of her being at the theatre that evening with an array of diamonds, which young girls seldom wore. In a week or so the marriage was discussed with a little wonder. Mrs. Nicoll was one of the old New Yorkers, a Ludlow herself. It was fortunate for Lily's prestige that her plain, unambitious father was dead, and her mother kept well in the background. No one quite knew about the fortune. Richard Weir was certainly hard hit. He made a pretence of devoting himself to his studies to keep away from Gaynor's raillery. But one day he said to Jim,-- "Something ought to be done to save Miss Ludlow from such an awful sacrifice; don't you think so, Underhill? That old aunt has egged her on, and she's doing this for her mother's sake. If I was in a position to marry, I know I could persuade her to throw it up. What shall I do, Jim? I know she really loves me. She is heroic about it. She thinks it would spoil my life in the very beginning. I don't know how father would take it; and there's such a family of us to provide for." "Let her alone," returned Jim, gruffly. So she had played with this honest-hearted young fellow as well; and the saddest of all was that he really believed in her. "She will marry Williamson, no matter what comes. Weir, I'm sorry enough I introduced you, if you are going to take it that way. Lily Ludlow is a flirt, pure and simple. I've never believed it until now. There is no use in our wasting our sympathies upon her." "You don't half do her justice, Jim; if you could hear her side--" "I have heard it," laconically. "Weir, I'm awful sorry," and he wrung the young fellow's hand.