Thus the first parallels of warfare were opened. The pair went on quite beyond the bit of lawn where the primroses grew, and the red in the west stretched out as if to cover them, and the moon in the east looked down as if it were hanging over some battlement of heaven to watch. Nelly’s delicate nostrils had dilated a little with a sense of coming battle, and as for Molyneux, he held his head high like a war-horse. “Yes, I am aware that ladies take that view sometimes; he is not popular among men,” he said, with lofty calm. “I suppose men are jealous of him,” said Nelly. “Oh dear, yes, men are very jealous of each other. If you think a girl can have been out two seasons without perceiving that----” “I am sorry we should have given you such a bad opinion of us. I am at a loss to understand,” said Mr. Molyneux solemnly, “what kind of creature the man could be who would be jealous of an old _roué_ like Longueville. His character is too well known among men, I assure you, Miss Eastwood, to make any such feeling possible.” Nelly coloured with pride and shame. “He ought to have a label on him, then, to warn the ignorant. Not knowing what his crimes are, I cannot judge him; he is very amusing, that is all I know.” “And that, of course, makes up for everything; and when any one ventures to warn you, Miss Eastwood, instead of listening, you turn your displeasure against the unfortunate man who feels it on his conscience----” “Mr. Molyneux,” cried Nelly, quickly interrupting him, “I don’t know what right one gentleman, whom mamma knows, has to warn me against another. Mamma is the person to be spoken to if there is really anything to say.” Thus the quarrel flashed and fizzed to the point of explosion; and what would have happened--whether they would have been driven apart in fragments, and their budding romance blown into dust and ruin in the ordinary course of events, had Molyneux responded in the same tone, I cannot say; but there are resources at the command of lovers which are not open to the general public. He did not go on in the same tone. He became suddenly lachrymose, as young men in love are permitted to be on occasion. “Miss Eastwood,” he said dolefully, “there have been times when I have ventured to think that you would not quite place me on the same level with the last new-comer----” “Oh, no,” said Nelly, with compunction, “I beg your pardon, that was not what I meant. We have known you a long time, Mr. Molyneux, and I am sure have always looked upon you as--a friend.” “Well, as--a friend,” he said, in the same pathetic tone, “might I not be allowed to say something when I saw that you were being deceived? Dear Miss Eastwood, could I stand by, do you think, knowing all I do of you, and see a man making his way into your esteem under false pretences?” “Making his way into my esteem?” cried Nelly with frank laughter. “Please don’t be so solemn. You can’t think surely for a moment that I _cared_ for that old Sir Alexis!”