Both girls were enthusiastic; they spent a long afternoon determining this, arranging that. But spring evenings in Switzerland are chilly; Capt suggested their return to the hotel. They reluctantly bade farewell to the little villa; but during all the long drive back they talked of nothing but the furnishing of the various rooms, the things that must be had, the things they could not do without. All this was argued _pro_ and _con._; colours were vital matters, fashion equally important; but not one thought did the ladies give themselves as to the cost. Happy girls, they were quite right; money in such a case as this was no object. Lucky are they who have not to count the cost, these are the people who are the real privileged classes; it's easy enough not to count the cost at all, in fact it's like a pleasant dream, a dream which has an unpleasant awakening at the shrill sounds of the piper who has to be paid. The girls sat up till midnight, at which time Haggard and his friend were due from Rome. They were both travel-worn and had not much to tell. Their business in Rome had been transacted. No, they were not hungry; they had dined in the sleeping-car. The next day, as gently as possible, Haggard broke to his wife the fact that it was incumbent upon him to start at once for his American property. The blow came not unexpectedly, and Georgie made the best of it. But the husband stayed a couple of days in Geneva; there were papers to sign in reference to the little villa, a pair of ponies had to be bought; and the numerous little matters of business to settle, which somehow or other it falls invariably to the lot of man to transact. The parting came at last; it took place on the platform of the station. There is among women always a melancholy satisfaction in seeing the very last of the beloved object. Georgie was no exception to the rule. Spunyarn, who was to accompany his friend, at a discreet distance was laughing and chatting merrily with the younger girl. True that at one time there had been rumours of an attachment between the pair; we, who are behind the scenes, know that both were perfectly heartwhole. "Will the train never start, Lord Spunyarn? I'm afraid all this will upset my cousin; these partings are dreadful things after all." "Think what my feelings must be, Miss Warrender. I, who have been congratulated by my friends over and over again in reference to my supposed good luck, and who will have now to face the fire of their chaff at my cruel rejection." "Your lordship seems to bear it bravely enough." "With profoundest equanimity, Miss Warrender. I leave the lady who has rejected me, in maiden meditation fancy free, at least, I suppose so; that thought is balm to my wounded soul. Hope, they say, springs eternal in the human breast. Miss Warrender may yet change her mind." "She will not fail to let you know by telegram should that unlikely event occur, Lord Spunyarn."