"WELL, what do you think of Sidney?" asked Monica as they were walking home together. "A very self-controlled young woman," replied Randolph promptly. Monica eyed him sharply. "You are more observant than most men," she said. "Sidney is very good company at all times; but she is not phlegmatic by nature, and is thinner skinned than most people, so is apt to be misunderstood. She is of the make of French aristocrats in the Revolution, who went to the guillotine with a jest upon their lips." "You speak as if a tragedy is hers." "Oh, no; we have no tragedies in this village." "Nor suitors to carry off your heroines?" Again Monica glanced at him, but she said nothing. It was the next day that he was enlightened, and it was Aunt Dannie who did it. She came out into the garden with him and paced up and down by his side as he was smoking his pipe. "Tell me about your dinner party. Such a little amuses us in this quiet neighbourhood. I suppose you fell in love with Sidney Urquhart on the spot. Most people do, I believe. She might have married over and over again had she been so minded. But I always said that her cousin, Archie Hughes, was the favoured man." "You're a veritable gossip," said Randolph, looking at the old lady with twinkling eyes. Aunt Dannie nodded her head, well pleased with the accusation. "Of course I am. Country people must be gossips, unless they're recluses. You see, Archie lived all his life close here. His father was one of the Admiral's cronies. He died two years ago. Archie and Sidney grew up together, and there was a kind of boy and girl engagement between them. We all expected a marriage, but I fancy Sidney could not make up her mind to leave her father. She was content to drift along. Then General Hughes died, and Archie grew restless, and the next thing we heard was that he was going out to India as secretary to a distant relative of his out there, who was Governor in some outlandish province. And then the other day, to our great surprise, we heard of his marriage. So I suppose, after all, there was nothing but cousinly feeling between him and Sidney. He was a second cousin of hers. She and Monica are great friends, but it is a pity she does not marry. She is not like Monica; she has not half such a self-reliant nature." Randolph did not speak. He was wondering at the coincidence of his coming down to this place to hear of the man who had stolen his fiancée from him. And he alone—unless Monica knew her friend's secret—had by mere accident discovered that Sidney had suffered as well as himself in that transaction. Aunt Dannie continued: