"I won't, Stephen--I won't. I'm simply not going to ruin your career for you." "My career!" I echoed. "Do you imagine I want to be a politician? Do you think I want to sit on a stuffy green bench and listen to people like dear old George, when I can sail the blue seas and love you?" "It certainly does sound more attractive," she admitted weakly. "Of course it is," I said. "It was what we were created for. We'll simply take up life where you left it off when your father died. I'll buy that boat, and we'll wander about the world just as we please for a thousand years, and we'll love each other like the sea loves the wind and the night loves the stars." I stopped for breath, and, with shining eyes. Astarte leaned forward. "My Stephen," she said, "you make it very hard." I took her in my arms and kissed her dear, soft, half-open lips. "Well," I asked softly, "have you anything else to say, Astarte, before we play billiards?" She looked up, and I saw the old, delicious smile breaking through her tears. "Only that I was right after all," she whispered. "I said you were too strong for me, Stephen." The Man with the Chin "I shouldn't like to marry a man with a chin like that," said the girl in red. Her companion, a ferret-faced young gentleman with his hair parted in the middle, inserted his eye-glass and stared deliberately across the room. "Obstinate-lookin' beggar--what?" he drawled. Unconscious of these criticisms, George Leslie sat at his solitary table, only looking up from his newspaper whenever the door of the room opened to admit a fresh arrival. It was on the sixth occasion that his inspection appeared to be successful. His lips parted in a smile, and, laying down his paper, he rose quietly from his chair. The girl in red nudged her companion. "She's come at last. Kept him waiting long enough." The ferret-faced young man indulged himself in another leisurely survey. "Worth it, too, by Jove!" he ejaculated admiringly. His criticism, if a trifle crude in expression, was sound enough in taste. The girl who had just come in was most distinctly worth waiting for. Beautifully dressed, with a shy yet charming prettiness, she moved across the tea-room towards Leslie, and held out her hand with a little smile of apology. "I am so sorry!" she said. "I know I'm dreadfully late." There was a momentary twinkle in Leslie's grey eyes. "Twenty-one-and-a-half minutes," he said. "Not a record, Nancy, by a long way." She sat down in the chair which he pulled up, and began to take off her gloves. "There's one nice thing about you," she answered, looking at him with frank affection, "you never mind people being late, do you?" "I occasionally make an exception in business hours," said Leslie. "Oh, business!" She shrugged her pretty shoulders. "I expect you're simply horrid in business, George. I'm sure you bully all those poor people at the garage dreadfully." Leslie shook his head.