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 "Mr. Johns," she said, "you would not like him to marry Elise."

"Elise?" said Johns. "Why, a man like Bevans wouldn't look at an immature little creature like my Elise. He's looking for some one who can help him in his career—not financially, you know, but a grande dame—some one who'd do him credit and help him along."

It might have been noticed by an acute observer—only none were there—that for the rest of the supper both Mr. Johns and Mrs. Rolles showed a tendency to sink into deep thought. Once she interrupted a sentence of his about the champagne to ask, "Are you sure Mr. Bevans has gone?"

"Oh yes, yes! Doesn't care for this sort of thing—not a frivolous-minded young feller," answered Mr. Johns, and went back to considering how he would put that proposition to the directors; not that he anticipated any difficulty with them. He never had any trouble with his directors—if he did, he changed them.

Austin did not go back to the shelter of the white cottage on leaving Mr. Johns. On the contrary, he turned south and, having eventually let himself in to his old rooms with his latch-key, was presently sitting on