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24 languid for a lion-hunter, and—except that he was bronzed—absolutely unchanged in all respects.

Uncle William, who had just returned from hunting, greeted his guest with great cordiality. He asked a certain number of obvious questions, which Wybrowe answered; but Mrs. Shaw did most of the talking. It was by a happy chance, she said, that she had called at the Traveller's to inquire if Colonel Wybrowe had returned to England, and had found him there, just arrived. He gave her a dinner at the Savoy, and they went to see The Pink Dominoes. It was too amusing; she had laughed till she was ashamed of herself. She wished Elizabeth could see it, but that was impossible. It was not a play a girl could see—it was too improper. Of course, for a married woman of ten years' standing, like herself, it was different; she might see anything with impunity. Here Elizabeth broke in with—

"I once went to a play, when I had to pretend not to understand, for father wanted to take me away. I was curious to see the end, of course, and so I stayed; but I didn't like it."

Mrs. Shaw and Colonel Wybrowe laughed.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Uncle William. "When we are in London, Bessie, we'll go the opera—you'll love that."

"I am afraid I shan't," she replied. "All that caterwauling doesn't appeal to me in the very least."

"Perhaps you don't know the Trovatore, Miss Shaw?" said Wybrowe (he called it the "Trover-Tory"). "I remember, when I was hunting in Africa, how often I used to hum,'Non ti scordar di me; and he glanced