Alice’s eyes ran along the circle of faces surrounding her as she spoke, and it so happened that when she paused at the words “my dear” she was looking Charley full in the face. Charley, as I have before remarked, had seen very little of young ladies, and I had several times observed that when Alice was speaking in her sparkling way he would watch her all the while out of the corners of his eyes, with an expression of wondering interest. Charley rarely laughed. I think his self-control in this regard amounted to somewhat of an affectation, and he had acquired a sort of serene moderation even in his smiles. But Alice’s bright, rattling talk seemed to have a sort of fascination for him, and to hurry him out of himself, as it were. And on this occasion I had been slyly watching his features moving in sympathy with the changing expression of her exceedingly mobile countenance. Entirely absorbed as he was in watching the play of her countenance, and thinking of I know not what, when he found her bright eyes resting full upon him, and himself seemingly addressed as “my dear,” he was suddenly startled out of his revery, and not knowing what to say: “I beg pardon,” said he, quickly, “were you speaking to me?” A shout of laughter greeting this ingenuous question, Charley’s face reddened violently, Alice’s generally imperturbable countenance answering with a reflected glow. “Not exactly,” said she; “my remarks were addressed to the company at large.” “Oh!” said he, blushing more deeply still. “But, Mr. Frobisher,” continued Alice, willing to relieve the embarrassment of the woman-hater, “don’t you agree with me? Wasn’t the Don obviously captivated by Lucy?” “I am sure, if he was not, it would be hard to understand the reason why. But the fact is, Mrs. Carter’s capital breakfast—” “Oh, you monster!” Half an hour later, finding myself alone with Lucy: “So you do not claim or even admit,” I happened casually to remark, “that you have made a conquest.” “No, indeed!” replied she, with a frank look in her eyes. “Far from it. Alice is all wrong.” “But Miss Alice was not alone in her observation of the facts of the case. We all saw what she described. I did most certainly.” “And so did I.” “Well?” “I saw, of course, how often he glanced towards me, and I was conscious that even while I was speaking to others his eyes were upon me. But there are looks and looks. You men don’t understand anything about such matters.” “And where, pray, did you learn all this mysterious language of looks and looks?” “I am a woman.” “So is Alice.” “Ah, yes; but, Alice—well, girls like to say that kind of thing to each other,—it’s encouraging, you know. Why do you smile? It is pleasant, of course, to be told that we have destroyed some man’s peace of mind, though we know it to be highly improbable in point of fact. I shall reciprocate, at the first opportune, by telling Alice with what sweet pain she has filled the breast of dear good Mr. Frobisher.”