So I took him up to Dolly and presented him. Dolly was very gracious; George is an evidently presentable boy. We fell into conversation. “My cousin, Lady Mickleham,” said I, “has been telling me--” “Oh, shut up, Sam!” said George, not, however, appearing very angry. “About a subject on which you can assist him more than I can, inasmuch as you are married. He is in love.” Dolly glanced at George. “Oh, what fun!” said she. “Fun!” cried George. “I mean, how awfully interesting,” said Dolly, suddenly transforming her expression. “And he wanted to be introduced to you because you might ask her and him to--” George became red, and began to stammer an apology. “Oh, I don’t believe him,” said Dolly kindly; “he always makes people uncomfortable if he can. What were you telling him, Mr. George?” “It’s no use telling him anything. He can’t understand,” said George. “Is she very--?” asked Dolly, fixing doubtfully grave eyes on my young cousin. “Sam’s seen her,” said he, in an excess of shyness. Dolly turned to me for an opinion, and I gave one: “She is just,” said I, “as charming as he thinks her.” Dolly leant over to my cousin, and whispered, “Tell me her name.” And he whispered something back to Dolly. “It’s awfully kind of you, Lady Mickleham,” he said. “I am a kind old thing,” said Dolly, all over dimples. “I can easily get to know them.” “Oh, you really are awfully kind, Lady Mickleham.” Dolly smiled upon him, waved her hand to me, and drove off, crying-- “Do try to make Mr. Carter understand!” We were left along. George wore a meditative smile. Presently he roused himself to say: “She’s really a very kind woman. She’s so sympathetic. She’s not like you. I expect she felt it once herself, you know.” “One can never tell,” said I carelessly. “Perhaps she did--once.” George fell to brooding again. I thought I would try an experiment. “Not altogether bad-looking, either, is she?” I asked, lighting a cigarette. George started. “What? Oh, well, I don’t know. I suppose some people might think so.” He paused, and added, with a bashful, knowing smile-- “You can hardly expect me to go into raptures about her, can you, old man?” I turned my head away, but he caught me. “Oh, you needn’t smile in that infernally patronizing way,” he cried angrily. “Upon my word, George,” said I, “I don’t know that I need.” THE VERY LATEST THING “It’s the very latest thing,” said Lady Mickleham, standing by the table in the smoking room, and holding an album in her hand. “I wish it had been a little later still,” said I, for I felt embarrassed. “You promise, on your honor, to be absolutely sincere, you know, and then you write what you think of me. See what a lot of opinions I’ve got already,” and she held up the thick album. “It would be extremely interesting to read them,” I observed. “Oh! but they’re quite confidential,” said Dolly. “That’s part of the fun.” “I don’t appreciate that part,” said I.