"Dickey would agree, and never know what had happened until he found me breakfasting opposite to him without a chaperon. Well, what's to be done?" She leaned back, and placed her hands behind her head. "Dickey won't ask me to be his wife, and Mr. Marr--who is rich--wants me to marry him right away." "Do you love Marr, Mabel?" asked Cannington seriously. "No," she said promptly. "Then refuse him." "He's too rich to refuse." "Mabel"--I spoke this time and severely--"you are much too nice a girl to make such a sordid match, and with a man who might be your father. Chuck him, and chuck it, and make Dickey Weston do his duty." "Which Dickey will be quite willing to do," said Cannington amiably, "especially as he told me that he loved you, Mab." "Oh," the girl jumped up and with a fine blush threw the half-finished cigarette into the fireplace. "Why didn't you tell me that before, Cannington? I know what I'll do." She reflected for three seconds. "I'll tell Mr. Marr that he shall have his answer as a Christmas box, and meanwhile I'll see if I can't make Dickey jealous. Cannington, you are sure that Dickey said what you say he said?" "Quite sure. He said it twice." "Then he must mean it," cried Mabel energetically. "So I can hold off Mr. Marr and make Dickey jealous by pretending to flirt with him. After all I love Dickey and Dickey loves me, so why shouldn't we marry?" "I am sure," said I cynically, "that if you put the position clearly to Weston in that way he would do his duty." "I don't want him to do his duty, just as if I was driving him to the altar," she said, much exasperated. "I wouldn't marry Dickey if I didn't love him, not if he were twice as rich." "What about Marr?" She wilfully chose to ignore my hint. "He can remain as a second string to my bow, Cyrus. After all I must marry money. Aunt Lucy"--this was Lady Denham, the late earl's sister--"is always grumbling about my dresses. And--and--and--oh, well, then, never mind, I must be getting back to town." She looked at her bracelet watch. "There's a theatre party and supper at the Ritz to-night, so I haven't much time. "And the situation?" asked Cannington, helping her on with her cloak. "I'll temporise and give Dickey a chance." "Which means that Marr will have none," I said gravely, "that's not fair." Mabel shrugged her shoulders, and made the truly feminine answer. "You're a man and don't understand. Oh," she stopped at the door suddenly, "by the way, Aunt Lucy told me that your name was in the papers, Cyrus, about some murder. I've just thought about it. Aren't you accused of sticking pins into some one? Tell me all about it on the way to the station; it will amuse me, you know." This refreshing candour made me laugh right out, as we descended the stairs. "I am glad that you have even an afterthought of my amusing position," said I, very drily. She had the grace to colour. "Oh, I didn't quite mean that, Cyrus; but after all, I can't think of everything at once."