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64 Captain Dillington, and he usually tacked himself to the skirts of some plump old matron, who talked of nothing more exciting than servants and other domestic relaxations. I imagine that Arthur Ravener must have pursued a similar course before he met me—but then my imagination always did go a long way.

"How do you do, Miss Bouverie?" Arthur Ravener in evening dress was extremely comely, but I could have found it in my heart to wish that he were not so pretty.

"I am so glad you have come, Mr. Ravener, to raise me from the Slough of Despond. I was going gradually down—down—down."

He smiled. I wondered if the little curl in his moustache were natural, or, if not, how he managed to bring it to such perfection. He did not seem to be in a talkative humor, so I felt called upon to make a little conversation. I looked around the room. Of course I knew I could say it was very warm. That is always a safe remark of an evening. It would also not have been out of the way to suggest that there were a great many present.