“That is not my fault, Miss Dolly,” he said. “You should not be unjust; though it is your favourite who has been the loser, you ought not to be unjust, for I have nothing more than what is my right.” “Oh, Sir Augustus,” said Dolly, alarmed by her own vehemence, “it was not you I meant. You have always been kind. It was those horrid people who think of nothing but who has the money. And then, you know,” she said, turning her tearful eyes upon him, “I have known them all my life--and I can’t bear to hear them speak so of Paul.” “And you can’t bear me, I suppose, for putting this Paul of yours out of his place?” Gus said. “No, indeed I don’t blame you. A woman might have given it up, but it is not your fault if you are different from a woman--all men are,” said Dolly, shaking her head. “When one knows as much about a village as I do, one soon finds out that.” “I suppose you think the women are better than the men,” said Sir Gus, shaking his head too. “I am for my own side,” said Dolly promptly, her tears drying up in the impulse of war; “but I did not mean that,” she added, “only different. Men and women are not good--or nasty--in the same way. I don’t suppose--you--could have done anything but what you did.” “I don’t think I could,” said Sir Gus, briefly. “But the people here,” said Dolly, “oh, the people here!” She stamped her foot upon the ground in her impatience and indignation; but when he would have pursued the subject, Dolly became prudent, and stopped short. She would say nothing more, except another appeal to heaven and earth against “the horridness of people.” This, however, gave Sir Gus a great deal to think of. Dolly did not in the least know what he had in his mind. She was not aware that the little man was going about among all the pretty groups of the garden party in the conscious exercise of choice, noting all the ladies, selecting the one that pleased him. Two or three had pleased him more or less--but one most of all: which was what Dolly Stainforth never suspected. Sir Gus walked about with the air of a man occupied with important business. He had no time to pay any attention to the progress of the games that were going on; his own affairs engrossed him altogether. Sometimes he selected one lady from a number on pretence of showing her something, or of watching a game, or hearing the band play a particular air, and carried her off with him to the suggested object, talking much and earnestly. He did not pay much court to the mothers and chaperons, but went boldly to the fountain-head. And some of the pretty young women to whom he talked so gravely did not quite know what to make of the little baronet. They laughed among themselves, and asked each other, “Did he ask you whether you liked town better or country? and if you would not like to take a voyage to the tropics?” Dolly on being asked this question quite early in their acquaintance, had answered frankly, “Not at all,” and had