"I assure you, Miss Lexden, I pity you from the bottom of my soul." As she stood there, her complexion heightened by the exercise, the little round hat admirably suiting the classic shape of her head, and the neatest little foot tapping the mallet, she didn't look much to be pitied; and she tossed her head rather disdainfully, as she asked, "Pity me, Captain Lyster! and why?" "Because you are so horribly bored here! I've been such a terrible sufferer from _ennui_ myself, that I know every expression on those who have it; and you're very far advanced indeed. _I_ know what it is that beats you, and I can't help you." "And what is it, pray?" "You know what Cleopatra says in the _Dream of Fair Women_: 'I have no men to govern in this wood!' Pardon me; I'm a singular person; not clever, you know, but always saying what I think, and that sort of thing; and you're dying for a flirtation." "Surely _you_ have no cause to complain. I've never tried to make you my 'Hercules, my Roman Antony,' Captain Lyster." "No; you've been good enough to spare me. You've known me too long, and think of me, rightly enough perhaps, as the 'dull, cold-blooded Cæsar;' and there's no one here that's at all available except Stone, and his berth with Sir Marmaduke is like a college-fellowship--he'd have to resign all income if he married. It's an awful position for you! Oh, by Jove, I forgot the two men coming! I'm afraid Charley Beresford's no go; but you might make great running with the Professor." "_Que d'honneur!_" said Barbara, laughing at his serious face. "That is a compliment, especially after our notions of what he will be like;" and then, after a minute's reflection, she added, with a proud gesture, "It would be a new field, at all events, and not a bad triumph, to win a steady sage from his books and--" "Vivien over again, by Jove!" said Lyster, in the nearest approach he had ever made to a shout; "Vivien divested of all impropriety; only look out that Merlin does not get you into the charm. They've no end of talk, these clever fellows. I knew a professor at Addiscombe--deuced ugly bird too--who ran off with an earl's daughter, all through his gab--I beg pardon, his tongue." "_Gare aux corbeaux!_ I flatter myself I can hold my own with the old crows," said Barbara; "however, this is mere nonsense. No more croquet, thank you, Captain Lyster. I must go in and reflect on your words of wisdom." And dropping him a little curtsey of mock humility, she moved off towards the house.