“Not more, dear heart, than I to see you,” he replied. “But I—I have been—been very busy; so many things have occupied my attention—so many things have needed to—to be done. Why—what a poor lover you must think me!” “Indeed—no,” she said. “Only I feared—such a foolish thought, I know—I feared that something might be wrong with you—feared that you might be in danger. Dandy”—she was twisting a button on his coat round and round in her fingers, and her eyes were bent down, so that he could not see them—“you remember once a long talk we had, about—about your cousin—Mr. Ogledon—don’t you?” He did not, of course, remember it, for an obvious reason; but, as he was desirous of hearing as much as possible about that gentleman, he answered diplomatically, “Well—what about him?” “Dandy—dear old boy—I don’t want you to think that I am uncharitable, or that this is a mere woman’s whim. You remember that you were very angry with me, when last I spoke about him; you said——” “I promise that you shall not make me angry this time—no matter what you say about him,” broke in Philip, gently. She raised her head quickly, and looked at him for a moment or two in silence. “Dandy,” she said at last, looking at him strangely—“you have never been so good to me as you are to-night; never seemed so near to me. That old impatience of yours seems to be gone. Something has softened you; what is it?” “Perhaps it is my love for you, dear Madge,” he said; and indeed, he thought then that the love of her might have softened any man. “Do you think so?” she asked, smiling at him happily. “And you will promise not to be angry at anything I say?” “Most faithfully.” “Well, then, I mistrust that man. I think a woman sees deeper into the hearts of her fellow-creatures than a man can hope to do; perhaps it is God’s gift to her, for her greater protection. The world is a sweet and precious place to me—especially since we have been drawn so much more strongly together—you and I; but I say from my heart that it would be a better place if that man were dead.” He looked at her in some astonishment; a rising tide of passion had flushed her face, and drawn her figure more erect. “God forgive me for wishing harm to any living creature!” she went on, in the same low passionate voice—“but he is your worst foe, Dandy. Beneath his smiling, soft ways, he hides the heart of a devil; and I have seen that in his eyes, when you have not observed him, which has told me that he would not hesitate to do you a mischief, if you stood in the way of anything he desired.” Philip Chater suddenly remembered, even in the interest he took in what she said, that he had a part to play. Therefore, with a shrug of the shoulders, he replied, lightly—“Indeed—you do him a wrong, Madge. Besides, I can take care of myself, even if he should be as bad as you paint him.”