"Because it’s unthinkable, because I hate it, because—I want you so myself." Jane-Anne looked very serious, but she didn’t blush or show any signs of confusion. "I shouldn’t make a nice wife," she remarked. "I think you would make an adorable wife—but, of course, we couldn’t marry just yet," he added honestly; "I’ve not got enough to make you comfortable; but we could wait—and I’ll work like the dickens and—you’re very young." "For the matter of that, so are you, but it isn’t a question of youth or age. There’s something I’ve got to do, and I must do it. Marrying and things like that must come after. I fancy"—here she raised her solemn, candid eyes—"everything will come after—always." George Gordon looked so miserable that Gantry Bill went to him, stretched up and licked one of the hands that hung so limp and melancholy at his sides. "Mr. Wycherly would have liked it," he said sadly. "I spoke to him last night, and he gave me leave to come to-day. He would have allowed us to be engaged." Jane-Anne gave a little laugh. "I am engaged," she said, "to Mr. Wendover’s touring company." "Damn Mr. Wendover!" exclaimed her angry suitor. "I’m awfully sorry, but you can’t think how I hate it. Will you keep Bill? Mr. Wycherly said he might stay here. I can’t have him in London, he’d be so miserable." "We shall love Bill," she said gently. Towards Christmas a bazaar was held in which Mrs. Methuen was much interested, and among the side-shows was a little duologue which she and Jane-Anne played together. It happened that Curly’s company was in Oxford at the time, and one afternoon he dragged Mr. Wycherly to the bazaar to see Jane-Anne act. Now, although Mr. Wycherly had seen her dance hundreds of times, he had never seen her act. He could not screw his courage to the point of facing the crowd of parents assembled at the school theatricals, and Mrs. Methuen had never yet induced him to come and see the little plays she was so fond of getting up in aid of various charities. This time, however, wearied by Curly’s importunities and fortified by his company, he was persuaded, and found himself seated in front of a red curtain, in the second row of chairs, while, pince-nez on nose, he studied a programme which bore the legend "A Joint Household." Jane-Anne had gone to lunch with Mrs. Methuen so as to be ready for the play which came fairly early in the afternoon. The noisy piano ceased, the curtain was rung up, and the two ladies, who, with their husbands, had agreed to share a house for the summer holidays, one after the other appeared upon the scene. Mrs. Methuen was unmistakable; pretty, eager, much concerned for the future comfort of her absent lord. But the other—— Mr. Wycherly was both disappointed and bewildered.