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“It’s really very kind of Mr. Ashforth,” said Dora to Charlie, as they strolled in the garden of the Tuileries, “to make such a point of what I think. I expect the wire that stupid Mr. Laing lost was just to tell me the date of the marriage.”

“Not a doubt of it. Miss Tr–Mrs. Ashforth’s wire to me makes that clear. They want to hear that we’re not desperately unhappy. Well, we aren’t, are we, Dolly?”

“Well, perhaps not.”

“Isn’t it extraordinary how we mistook our feelings? Of course, though, it’s natural in you. You had never been through anything of the sort before. How could you tell whether it was the real thing or not?”

Dora shot a glance out of the corner of her eye at her lover, but did not disclaim the innocence he imputed to her; she knew men liked to think that, and why shouldn’t they, poor things? She seized on his implied admission and carried the war into his country.

“But you,–you who are so experienced–how did you come to make such a mistake?”

Charlie was not at a loss.

“It wasn’t a mistake then,” he said. “I was quite right then. Mary Travers was about the nicest girl I had ever seen. I thought her as charming as a girl could be.”

“Oh, you did! Then why—-“

“My eyes have been opened since then.”

“What did that?”

“Why don’t you ever pronounce my name?”

“Never mind your name. What opened your eyes?”

“Why, yours, of course.”

“What nonsense! They’re very nice about it, aren’t they? Do you think we ought to call?”

“Shall you feel it awkward?”

“Yes, a little. Shan’t you? Still we must let them know we’re here. Will you write to Mrs. Ashforth?”

“I suppose I’d better. After lunch ‘ll do, won’t it?”

“Oh, yes. And I’ll write a note to him. I expect they won’t be staying here long.”

“I hope not. Hullo, it’s a quarter past twelve. We must be getting back. Laing’s coming to lunch.”

“Where arc the Deanes?”

“Lady Deane’s gone to Belleville with your father to see slums, and Roger’s playing tennis with Laing. He said we weren’t to wait lunch. Are you hungry, Dolly?”

“Not very. It seems only an hour since breakfast.”

“How charming of you! We’ve been walking here since ten o’clock.”

“Mr. Ellerton, will you be serious for a minute? I want to say something important. When we meet the Ashforths there mustn’t be a word said about–about–you know.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I couldn’t! So soon! Surely you see that. Why, it would be hardly civil to them, would it, apart from anything else?”

“Well, it might look rather casual.”

“And I positively couldn’t face John Ashforth. You promise, don’t you?”

“It’s a nuisance, because, you see, Dolly—-

“You’re not to get into the habit of saying ‘Dolly’. At least not yet.”

“Presently?”

“If you’re good. Now promise!”

“All right.”

“We’re not engaged.”

“All right.”

“Nor thinking of it,”

“Rather not.”

“That’s very nice of you, and when the Ashforths are gone—-“

“I shall be duly rewarded?”

“Oh, we’ll see. Do come along. Papa hates being kept waiting for his meals, and they must have finished their slums long ago.”

They found Lady Deane and the General waiting for them, and the latter proposed an adjournment to a famous restaurant near the Opera. Thither they repaired, and ordered their lunch.

“Deane and Laing will find out where we’ve gone and follow,” said the General. “We won’t wait,” and he resumed his conversation with Lady Deane on the events of the morning.

A moment later the absentees came in; Sir Roger in his usual leisurely fashion, Laing; hurriedly. The latter held in his hand two telegrams, or the crumpled debris thereof. He rushed up to the table and panted out, “Found ’em in the pocket of my blazer–must have put ’em there–stupid ass–never thought of it–put it on for tennis–awfully sorry.”

Wasting no time in reproaches, Dora and Charlie grasped their recovered property.

“Excuse me!” they cried simultaneously, and opened the envelopes. A moment later both leant back in their chairs, the pictures of helpless bewilderment.