"Do you think so? I should like to be good--to you." Mr Coventry shivered. Was this woman making love? "I married my first husband, Mr Coventry, to please my mother. When I marry again I mean to please myself." "What--what time is this train due in Brighton?" "Never mind what time the train is due in Brighton." She smiled. Some men, who are about to pop the question, delight in the shyness of the maiden. Was it possible that she delighted in the shyness of the youth? "George--I may call you George. Mayn't I call you George?" "Have you any objection to my smoking a pipe?" "Smoke if you please. Do what you please. My only desire is to give you pleasure." She laid her gloved hand softly on his arm. "You haven't such a thing as a match about you?" "George, before you begin to smoke, turn round and look at me." Mr Coventry's head was turned round the other way; he was blowing through the stem of his pipe. "George!" If the lady had been a gentleman we should have written that he put his arm about her waist. "Thunder! my pipe won't draw!" The gentleman sprang to his feet with startling suddenness; but the lady was equal to the occasion. Before he knew it she had taken him with both her hands, and drawn him on to her knee. "You silly thing!" While Mr Coventry was wondering if the skies had fallen, she had kissed him on the lips. Just then the train reached Brighton. CHAPTER II Mr Coventry chartered a fly to the Steyne. He drew up at the house in which lived the little woman with the foot. The person who opened the door informed him that Miss Hardy was in. He rushed upstairs without waiting to be announced. The little woman was seated writing at a table. At his entrance she rose with a start--as well she might. "Miss Hardy, I--I want to speak to you." "Mr Coventry." As the lady stood facing the gentleman she turned a little pale, or perhaps it was a curious effect of the lamplight shining in her face. As for the gentleman's complexion, any suggestion of pallor was ridiculous. A ripe tomato was the best comparison which could have been applied to him. "I beg ten thousand pardons, but I--I've been with that Murphy woman in the train!" The girl said nothing. Her big brown eyes were fixed upon her visitor's countenance. In them was a look of not unjustifiable inquiry. "I--I daresay you think that I'm mad; but I'm not. The fact is, Miss Hardy, I've had a stroke of luck!" "I am glad to hear it." "Is that all?" "What else would you have me say?" The intensity of the gaze which the gentleman kept fixed upon the lady she must have found a little trying. All at once he went forward. He brought his hand down heavily on the little table at which she was standing. "Dora, I love you!" The remark was sudden. The girl for a moment was silent, as if she could scarcely believe her ears. Then a wave of vivid red went up all over her, so that it even dyed the roots of her hair. In her eyes were tears.