"Thanks," he said curtly. "That tears it. It's very kind of the old gentleman, but I prefer to choose a wife for myself." He bowed to the company and strode from the room. . . . . . It was a cloudless August day. In the shadow of the great elms that fringed the Sussex lane a girl sat musing; on its side in the grass at her feet a bicycle, its back wheel deflated. She sat on the grassy bank with her hat in her lap, quite content to wait until the first passer-by with a repairing outfit in his pocket should offer to help her. "Can I be of any assistance?" said a manly voice, suddenly waking her from her reverie. She turned with a start. The owner of the voice was dressed in a stylish knickerbocker suit; his eyes were blue, his face was tanned, his hair was curly, and he was at least six foot tall. So much she noticed at a glance. "My bicycle," she said; "punctured." In a minute he was on his knees beside the machine. A rapid examination convinced him that she had not over-stated the truth, and he whipped from his pocket the repairing outfit without which he never travelled. "I can do it in a moment," he said. "At least, if you can just help me a little." As she knelt beside him he could not fail to be aware of her wonderful beauty. The repairs, somehow, took longer than he thought. Their heads were very close together all the time, and indeed on one occasion came violently into contact. "There," he said at last, getting up and barking his shin against the pedal. "Conf---- That will be all right." "Thank you," she said tenderly. He looked at her without disguising his admiration; a tall, straight figure in the sunlight, its right shin rubbing itself vigorously against its left calf. "It's absurd," he said at last; "I feel as if I've known you for years. And, anyway, I'm certain I've seen you before somewhere." "Did you ever go to _The Seaside Girl_?" she asked eagerly. "Often." "Do you remember the Spanish princess who came on at the beginning of the Second Act and said, 'Wow-wow!' to the Mayor?" "Why, of course! And you had your photograph in _The Sketch_, _The Tatler_, _The Bystander_, and _The Sporting and Dramatic_ all in the same week?" The girl nodded happily. "Yes, I'm Marie Huguenot!" she said. "And I'm Jack Summers; so now we know each other." He took her hand. "Marie," he said, "ever since I have mended your bicycle--I mean, ever since I have known you, I have loved you. Will you marry me?" "Jack!" she cooed. "You did say 'Jack,' didn't you?" "Bless you, Marie. We shall be very poor, dear. Will you mind?" "Not with you, Jack. At least, not if you mean what _I_ mean by 'very poor.'" "Two thousand a year." "Yes, that's about what I meant." Jack took her in his arms. "And Mary Huggins can go and marry the Pope," he said, with a smile. With a look of alarm in her eyes she pushed him suddenly away from her. There was a crash as his foot went through the front wheel of the bicycle.