'It would have delighted me to have been of service to you, and perhaps I may even yet have the opportunity. When do you sail?' 'I think Mr. Duval mentioned the Cuba as the name of the vessel in which our passage was engaged.' 'The Cuba!' repeated Mr. Foster. 'I am almost afraid that I shall be unable to get back by her, although I have made such progress in the business which brought me over here--business, you see, again, Miss Montressor--that I think it will not be necessary for me to remain in England so long as I at first anticipated.' 'If you were a married man, Mr. Foster, that would, I imagine, be very pleasant news to some one who is, what you call, "on the other side."' '_If I were a married man!_' he exclaimed, with a laugh. 'Why, do you mean to say, Miss Montressor, that you have any doubt on the subject.' 'Well, you certainly have what I may call a family look about you,' she said, casting a careless glance over him; 'but as I have never heard you mention your wife, I concluded you were a bachelor.' 'I take it as a compliment,' he said, with another laugh, but this time more nervously and more seriously than before, 'or rather as a credit to myself, that even in the two short interviews which we have had since I made your acquaintance, I have not said something about my wife. It is the humour of most of my friends in New York to say that--excepting business matters, of course, where I never permit any domestic thoughts to intrude--that Helen's name is scarcely ever out of my mouth.' 'And quite right too,' said Miss Montressor. 'I detest a man who is married and ashamed of it, and who, when away from home, goes about, as it were, sailing under false colours. And so Mrs. Foster is called Helen? It is a very pretty name.' 'And she is a very pretty woman,' said Foster enthusiastically; 'and not merely that, but the best and dearest little woman in the world. Here,' he added, plunging his hands into his waistcoat-pocket, and taking out from thence his watch, 'here is her portrait.' As he spoke, he placed the watch in Miss Montressor's hand. Miss Montressor took the watch, and looked at its back, which was merely of engine-turned gold; then she pressed her fingers all round in search of some hidden spring, but finding none, shook her head blankly, and gave it back to her companion. 'I can see no portrait,' she said half pettishly. 'Of course not,' said he, with a laugh. 'You would not have me carry such a treasure as that for every one to see whenever I wanted to know the time. There,' he added, as the spring flew back and revealed the miniature, 'now you see my darling.' 'What a sweet face!' cried Miss Montressor, clapping her hands; 'so soft and pensive and loving! I don't wonder at your being fond of her, Mr. Foster, or being anxious to get back to her.' 'She is all that you say,' cried Mr. Foster, 'and more, God bless her!'