it would not be as well to think as well as possible of his enemy, is a matter for charity to decide. It had not occurred to him before that Griffith's frequent and unceremonious visits implied anything very serious. There were so many free-and-easy visitors at the house, and they all so plainly cultivated Dolly, if they did not make actual love to her; and really outsiders would hardly have been impressed with her deportment toward her betrothed. She was not prone to exhibit her preference sentimentally in public. So Ralph Gowan had been deceived,--and so he was deceived still. “This sort of fellow,” as he mentally put it with unconscious high-handedness, was not the man to make such a woman happy, however ready she was to bear with him. It was just such men as he was, who, when the novelty of possession wore off, deteriorated into tyrannical, irritable husbands, and were not too well bred in their manners. So he became reflective and silent, when Mollie said that the two were “making love.” But at last it occurred to him that even to Mollie his preoccupation might appear singular, and he roused himself accordingly. “Making love!” he said again. “Blissful occupation! I wonder how they do it. Do you know, Mollie?” Mollie looked at him with a freedom from scruples or embarrassment at the conversation taking such a turn, which told its own story. “Yes,” she said. “They talk, you know, and say things to each other just as other people do, and he kisses her sometimes. I know that,” with a decided air, “because I have seen him do it.” “Cool enough, that, upon my word,” was her questioner's mental comment, “and not unpleasant for Donne; but hardly significant of a fastidious taste, if it is a public exhibition.” “Ah, indeed!” he said, aloud. “They have been engaged so long, you know,” volunteered Mollie. “Singularly enough, I did not know, Mollie,” he replied. “Are you sure yourself?” “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her eyes. “I thought everybody knew that. They have been engaged ever since they were ever so much younger. Dolly was only fifteen, and Griffith was only eighteen, when they first fell in love.” “And they have been engaged ever since?” said Gowan, his curiosity getting decidedly the better of him. “Yes, and would have been married long ago, if Griffith could have got into something; or if Old Flynn would have raised his salary. He has only a hundred a year,” with unabashed frankness, “and, of course, they couldn't be married on that, so they are obliged to wait. A hundred and fifty would do, Dolly says,--but then, they have n't got a hundred and fifty.”