"Ah, but you don't know anything about it, Savile. I bet you anything you like you can't tell me those clever lines about the poor darling King's death!" "Of course I can. Everybody knows them." Savile made an effort and then said, "You mean Fain would I climb but that ..." "Oh no, no, no! Oh, good gracious, no! One more try, now." "Had I but served my God as faithfully as I have served my king ..." "Wrong again. That's Sir Philip Sidney," she said, shutting up the book with a bang. "It's Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King Whose word no man relies on ..." "I say, old girl, I didn't come here to talk history, if you don't mind." "Well, what do you want to talk about? Shall I show you my new one of Zena Dare?" said Dolly, opening the postcard album. "Certainly not. I can't worry about Zena Dare. No, I've got something to tell you--something rather serious. Zena Dare, indeed! What next?" "Oh dear, are you in a bad temper?" "How like a woman! No, I'm _not_ in a bad temper. Talking sense doesn't show that one's in a bad temper. But it's a beastly thing to have to do." Dorothy sat on both the books, came nearer to Savile, and looked rather pale, tactfully waiting, in silence. Then suddenly he said in a different tone, quite cheerily---- "That's rather jolly, the way that blue bow is stuck in your hair, Dolly." "I thought you wanted to talk sense, Savile. What is it? Have you found out--anything?" "What do you mean? Yes, I've jolly well found out that I can't be engaged to you any more. I've no right to be." She did not seem overwhelmed by the news. "Fancy! Just fancy! Oh--I see. Is there some one else? Who is it, Savile?" He smiled in his most superior way. "My dear child, people don't go about mentioning women's names. Now look here, Dolly, I meant to be straight, so I told you right out." She smiled. "I wonder what sort of girl she is! Well, it can't be Gladys: she's much too hideous. That's _one_ comfort!" "You're right, it can't. Besides, it's not." "Well, Savile, you're a dear good boy to come and tell me about it. And, the fact is, I was just wanting to tell you myself that perhaps we had better not be engaged any more. Just be pals instead, you know." "Who's the man?" He spoke sternly. She began to talk very volubly. "You know those people whom we met at Dinard last summer, the de Saules? They're French, you know. Well, Madame de Saules,--you can't think how pretty she is,--and dear little Thérèse, and Robert have just come over here for the season. Thérèse is such a darling. You would love her. Only a kid, of course, you know, but...." "And what price this beastly French boy? Now, listen to me. Foreigners are all rotters. I can tell you that if you're engaged to him you'll live to regret it. I speak as a friend, Dolly."