“I know. Between ourselves, Lossing, dear boy, I went up to her place one evening and proposed to her; and—this is in confidence, mind—d’you know, by Jove! she actually refused me. She’s got that fellow Onslow still in her head, I suppose. But I shall go out and have a look at her again. Honestly, I was after her £500 a year at first; but now that (thanks to you) I’m better off, it won’t look so bad; and, really, I like her better than I thought. She’s a most awfully charming woman.” “Whatever did she marry that brute Duvernay for?” asked Lossing. “Ah, that,” replied Kent-Williams, “is more than I can tell you.” THE END.