“Well, Champney, dear, at least do tell me how you found out about—about—” Frances stopped there. “Never,” persisted Champney, nestling back on the sofa and laughing. “I don’t think it’s nice for a man to have secrets from his wife,” reproved Frances, taking an eminently feminine view of man’s knowledge. “That is to be,” corrected Champney. “Will you tell me—after to-morrow?” “No.” “Why not?” “It’s too good to be told.” “Ah, Champney!” And a small hand strayed round his neck, and rested lightly against his cheek. Champney looked very contented. “Please, dear.” And a pair of lips came dangerously close to his own. Champney groaned a satisfied groan. “Well,” he began, “do you remember when I came in the evening before we sailed, how Freddy was sitting over there, and you were sitting just where you are?” “Yes.” “And how you let me sit down here, just where I am?” “Yes.” “And how I chatted for a moment and then suddenly became silent?” “Yes.” “That was when I discovered it.” “How?” “I found that the seat I was sitting in was _warm_!” “SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE IS SAUCE FOR THE GANDER” ❦ “Oh, my dear!” cried her mother. “I hope you have properly considered? He is charming, of course, but—well—he is such a club habitué.” “What? Well, well!” exclaimed her father. “Bless me, Meg, I had no idea— Give me a kiss, if you have any to spare for your old dad now. Why, of course, I consent, if you care for him. Only tell Mr. Tyler I hear he spends too much time at his clubs.” “Margaret! How nice!” ejaculated her sister. “I’ve liked him from the start, and hoped—people said he was too fond of his club ever to care to marry, and so I thought—but now it’s all right.” “I knew he meant biz,” asserted her brother, “the moment he began to keep away from the club, and put in so much time with you.” “I cannot tell you, my dearest Margaret (if I may call you that?),” wrote his mother, “how happy I am over what my dear boy has just told me. The luxury and ease of club life are now so great that I had almost feared Harry could not be weaned from them. But since he has chosen such a dear, beautiful, and clever girl, my worst anxiety is over.” “You are indeed to be congratulated, niece,” declared her aunt. “He is a most eligible _parti_—good looks, position, and wealth. If you can only keep him away from his clubs, I am confident you will be a very happy and domestic couple.” “I have been certain of it for weeks,” her dearest feminine friend assured her. “There isn’t a man I would rather have had you take, for he is so much at his club that I shall still see something of you.”