"Second edition!" said she. "The first dedicated to Miss Travers." And then Charlie (and it is thing's like these which shake that faith in human nature that we try to cling to) said in a low but quite distinct voice: "Oh, d----n Miss Travers!" Dora shot--it almost looked as if something had shot her, as it used, in old days, Miss Zazel--up from her seat. "I thought I was talking to a _gentleman_," said she, "I suppose you'll use that--expression--about me in a week." "In a good deal less, if you treat me like this," said Charlie, and his air was one of hopeless misery. We all recollect that Anne ended by being tolerably kind to wicked King Richard. After all, Charlie had the same excuse. "I don't want to be unkind," said Dora more gently. "I'll do anything in the world to please you." "Then make papa go straight to Paris, and straight on from Paris," said Dora, using her power mercilessly. "Oh, I say, I didn't mean that, Miss Bellairs." "You said you'd do anything I liked." Charlie looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose you've no pity?" he inquired. "For you? Not a bit," "You probably don't know how beautiful you are?" "Don't be foolish, and--and impertinent." She was standing opposite to him. With a sudden motion, he sprang forward, fell on one knee, seized her ungloved hand, covered it with kisses, sprang up, and hastened away, crying as he went: "All right. I'll do it." Dora stood where he left her. First she looked at her hand, then at Charlie's retreating back, then again at her hand. Her cheek was flushed and she trembled a little. "John never did that," she said, "at least, not without asking. And even then, not quite like that." She walked on slowly, then stopped and exclaimed: "I wonder if he ever did that to Mary Travers." And her last reflection was: "Poor boy. He must be--oh, dear me!" When Charlie reached the tennis-courts, he was, considering the moving scene through which he had passed, wonderfully calm. In fact he was smiling and whistling. Espying Sir Roger Deane, he went and sat down by him. "Roger," said he, "I'm going with you and the Bellairs' to-morrow." "I know that." "Miss Bellairs wants to go straight through to England without stopping anywhere." "She'll have to want, I expect." "And I've promised to try and get the General to do what she wants." "Have you though?" "I suppose, Roger, old fellow--you know you've great influence with him--I suppose it's no use asking you to say a word to him?" "Not a bit." "Why?" "Because Maud particularly wants him to stay with us in Paris." "Oh, of course, if Lady Deane wishes it, I mustn't say a word. She's quite made up her mind about it, has she?" "Well, I suppose so." "She's strong on it, I mean? Not likely to change?" "I think not, Charlie." "She'd ask him to stay, as a favor to her?" "I shouldn't at all wonder." "Oh, well then, my asking him won't make much difference." "Frankly, I don't see why it should."