Garden-parties, balls, dinner-parties, follow each other in rather monotonous succession, and Lippa is beginning to tire of them, she has been to three balls where a certain young man has been conspicuous by his absence; and it is almost a week since he has dropped in to tea, and Miss Seaton misses him more than she will own to herself. She is feeling out of sorts this afternoon and has betaken herself to the back drawing-room, which is only curtained off from the front, leaving Mabel and Lady Dadford in earnest conversation. Presently the door opens, and Ponsonby comes in. 'All alone,' says he. 'I thought you always had some one worshipping at your shrine.' 'Indeed, you are much mistaken,' replies she laughing, 'but I didn't know you were in London--' 'I only came back this morning--' 'Mabel and Lady Dadford are in there,' interrupts Philippa indifferently, pointing to the front room. 'Well, unless I am disturbing you, I will remain here,' says Paul, 'there are some letters I must write,' and going to the table he proceeds to hunt for paper and pens; Lippa goes on reading her book, and a silence of a few minutes ensues. Then he says, 'What wretched pens you do keep--' 'Yes,' replies she, 'they are rather bad, but I think you will find some others in the right hand drawer--have you ever read this?' holding up her volume. 'The "Epic of Hades," yes, parts of it are very fine. "There is an end of all things that thou seest. There is an end of wrong and death and hell,"' quotes he. 'What a melancholy passage,' says Lippa. 'A very grand one I think,' he replies, 'but I should never have thought you would care for that kind of literature.' 'Why not?--' 'Because, well, I should have thought it would have been too deep for you--' 'Really,' then after a pause, 'do you know _that_ wasn't very polite--' 'Wasn't it? suppose I say then that I am agreeably surprised--' 'That's nearly as bad, if not quite, it sounds as if you expected me to read nothing but books like the "Daisy Chain," or "Laneton Parsonage."' 'Very excellent books too--' 'Oh, Paul! how _tiresome_ you are, do you know I,' and then Miss Seaton is filled with confusion, she has called him by his Christian name and he is looking at her and smiling. 'I--er beg your pardon,' she says quickly in her childish way. 'What for?' asks he, pretending not to understand her. 'For calling you by your Christian name--' 'Well, and what harm was there?' 'You see,' she says deprecatingly, 'Mabel is always talking about you, and so I get into the habit of talking of you as Paul.' Paul rises and standing in front of her says--'As I said before, where is the harm? I have never called you anything else but Philippa, or Lippa; I could not address you as Miss Seaton, it does not suit you one bit you know; now let us make it a compact from henceforth, I call you Lippa, and you call me Paul.' 'Very well,' replies she.