Cicely Harradine’s soft bud of a face faded from pink to pale, and her big eyes clouded dolefully. She said nothing for a moment but “Oh, Tots!” (she’s quite as hopeless as Miss Smith). Then, in a tone of the timidest reproach, she faltered, “Mr. Vandeleur _said_ he was ‘big and blonde and City-fied and extremely prosperous-looking.’ I said I’d never seen any friend of yours who was like that. No wonder! The head of the firm! But—Tots!—I should—should hate to think of you, of all girls, marrying anyone because of his—money?” “Then don’t think it. You may do me that justice!” I said sharply. She was nearly as bad in her way as the typists at the Near Oriental had been in theirs—and the same prevarication had to be used to “head off” _her_ comments on a marriage for money. After which, the accusation in my chum’s big eyes melted suddenly into tears. Impulsively she flung her slim arms round my neck—and I had to let her. “Forgive me, Tots. Dear old girl, but how _was_ I to know? It’s all so unexpected, and I never met him, and you never gave me a hint! I _didn’t_ see how you could possibly prefer anyone to Mr. Vandeleur, who _is_ so wonderful! But of course I know Love’s blind—I mean, you can’t _make_ yourself not care for this Mr. Waters, just because another man wants so badly to marry you! Oh, Tots, it’s all my fault, but I’m afraid he’s going to write to you about that——” “Mr. Vandeleur is?” (This, too!) “Yes! It’s all because of what I said to him. I have been putting my foot in it,” she admitted, as if this were quite a new idea to me too, “but _do_ forgive me—Since you do really care for this Mr. Waters I’m only too delighted, darling. Oh, I’m so glad for your happiness, you can’t think! When did it happen? He’s _madly_ in love with you, of course?” Here I thought grimly of Miss Robinson’s version: “_My dears, the little Trant makes out she’s madly in love with him!_” All this about two people who, as far as I can make out, have only one thing in common—both being absolutely falling-in-love-_proof_! Poor, well-meaning, warm-hearted Cicely was still effusing; eager to make up for her first suspicion that I _wasn’t_ engaged for the only right reason. “I ought to have seen! Of course! It was he who gave you this extra work about a fortnight ago?” “Exactly!” (Extra work with a vengeance! More than I’ve bargained for!) —“And that we were so thankful for, just when I lost my own job and was ill, and there were all those extra things to get.... It was your ‘rise’ that got them all, I knew. Only I didn’t know ... this other. It _began_ then, I suppose, Tots?” “Yes, it began then.” “How romantic! Well! And I did notice that you’ve been absent-minded and not saying much these last few days, and I _ought_ to have known why it was. _Especially_ yesterday. Did HE take you out to lunch again to-day? Oh, doesn’t it make the whole world different for you?” “It makes the menu jolly different, anyhow,” I admitted.