'Pretty well, I don't read much of it.' 'I am so fond of it,' replies Philippa, settling herself comfortably on a sofa surrounded by cushions, 'I could read it all day.' 'Ah, you see you have more time to do what you like, but when a fellow has been at work all day, he doesn't feel inclined for poetry, you've got nothing to do except to read and do fancy work, I suppose.' 'That's a mistake that all men make, they think that girls have nothing to do all day, when they have quite as much as men if not more; you don't know anything about them. And I think poetry is the _most_ restful thing to read when one's tired, you see our minds soar to higher things than yours, you study the _Racing Calendar_ and the newspapers, don't you?' 'Generally, not always,' admits Jimmy. 'The _Racing Calendar_, _versus_ Tennyson, Longfellow, or Mrs Browning; but I don't believe you're half listening to me,' says she, for he is gazing straight in front of him. 'I assure you I was,' he protests, 'I am in a crowd now, may I not muse on the "absent face that has fixed" me.' 'No, certainly not, you ought to be thinking of me,' this in a slightly aggrieved tone. 'How do you know I wasn't,' gazing at her earnestly. 'I'm not absent,' and then Philippa seeing what might be implied, blushes a rosy red, and rising says, 'We must go back now, I promised Lord Helmdon this dance, and he'll never find me here. Ah! there he is.' 'Are you so anxious to dance with him?' asks Jimmy in a would-be indifferent tone. 'Yes, of course,' she replies, 'I like him so much, don't you?' 'Oh, yes,' replies Dalrymple with equal indifference. And so the evening wears on and Miss Seaton is congratulating herself at having eluded Captain Harkness, when she suddenly finds him standing before her. 'Won't you give me a dance?' he says in his suave tone. 'I have been trying to speak to you all the evening--' 'Have you?' she replies, and not knowing quite how to get out of it. 'You may have the next one if you like,' she says. 'May I really? Then I shall find you somewhere about here?' Lippa nods, and her partner, an aged baronet, claims her and they go through the intricacies of the lancers. Almost before the next dance has begun, Harkness appears; he dances beautifully and knows it too, but it is not long before he suggests a saunter in the garden. Philippa consents, and forth they go into the cool night air. A hundred tiny lamps have been placed among the bushes, which shed a subdued light over the scene; charming corners have been arranged to sit in, while the splashing of the fountains mingles with the laughter and conversation of the company.