"Ah, yes," Ray quietly responded, for he had seen through the trick at once; "Miss Kitty McKenzie introduced me to Miss Richards early in the evening. She is an interesting girl, and she informs me that she is in the employ of your aunt, Mrs. Montague." "Yes, she's seamstress, or something of that sort," Mr. Hamblin returned, knocking the ashes from his cigar. "Deuced shame, isn't it, that a pretty, lady-like girl like her should have to work at such a trade for her living? I--I believe," with a sly glance at Ray, "if I wasn't dependent on Aunt Margie--that is, if I had a fortune of my own--I'd like nothing better than to marry the girl and put her in a position more befitting her beauty." It was fortunate, for Mona's sake, that they were walking in the shadow of the tall spruces, or Louis Hamblin must have seen the look of wrath that kindled on Ray's face at the presumptuous speech. His first impulse was to hurl the conceited puppy to the ground for daring to speak of his betrothed in that flippant manner; but such a demonstration he knew would involve serious consequences, and at once betray Mona's identity and make it impossible for her to learn anything from Mrs. Montague regarding her mother's history. He had a terrible struggle within himself for a moment before he could control his anger sufficiently to make any reply. But after two or three vigorous puffs at his Havana, he managed to say, with some degree of calmness, though with an undertone of sarcasm, which he could not restrain, and which did not fail to make itself felt: "Really, Hamblin, your philanthropic spirit is a great credit to you, and doubtless Miss Richards would appreciate it if she could know of your deep interest in her. But, if I am not mistaken, I have heard that you are contemplating matrimony in another quarter--that Miss McKenzie is the bright, particular star in your firmament; and she is really a charming young lady in my estimation." "Oh, Kitty is well enough," returned Mr. Hamblin, with a shrug of his shoulders, "but a fellow doesn't quite relish having a girl thrust upon him. Aunt Marg is set upon my marrying her, and it's human nature, you know, never to want to do anything under compulsion, but to be inclined to do just what you know you must not. Eh, Palmer?" What could the fellow mean? Ray asked himself. Did he still suspect, in spite of his efforts to conceal the fact, who Ruth Richards really was? And did he mean to imply, by his moralizing, that he knew how Ray longed to thrash him for his insolence, and yet knew he must not, for fear of compromising the girl he loved? Then, too, he could not help despising him for the slighting and insulting way in which he had spoken of Kitty McKenzie, who, he felt, was far too true and lovely a girl to throw herself away upon such a flippant and unprincipled fellow. He knew that he could not tamely submit to much more conversation of such a nature, so he merely replied in an absent tone.