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130 a few minutes Mary Snow's two lovers were walking together, side by side, along the causeway.

'I believe you know Miss Snow,' said Felix, rushing at once into the middle of all those delicate circumstances.

Albert Fitzallen drew himself up, and declared that he had that honour.

'I also know her,' said Felix. 'My name is Felix Graham'

'Oh, sir, very well,' said Albert. The street in which they were standing was desolate, and the young man was able to assume a look of decided hostility without encountering any other eyes than those of his rival. 'If you have anything to say to me, sir, I am quite prepared to listen to you—to listen to you, and to answer you. I have heard your name mentioned by Miss Snow.' And Albert Fitzallen stood his ground as though he were at once going to cover himself with his pistol arm.

'Yes, I know you have. Mary has told me what has passed between you. You may regard me, Mr. Fitzallen, as Mary's best and surest friend.'

'I know you have been a friend to her; I am aware of that. But, Mr. Graham, if you will allow me to say so, friendship is one thing, and the warm love of a devoted bosom is another.'

'Quite so,' said Felix.

'A woman's heart is a treasure not to be bought by any efforts of friendship,' said Fitzallen.

'I fully agree with you there,' said Graham.

'Far be it from me to make any boast,' continued the other, 'or even to hint that I have gained a place in that lady's affections. I know my own position too well, and say proudly that I am existing only on hope.' Here, to show his pride, he hit himself with his closed fist on his shirt-front. 'But, Mr. Graham, I am free to declare, even in your presence, though you may be her best and surest friend,'—and there was not wanting, from the tone of his voice a strong flavour of scorn as he repeated these words—'that I do exist on hope, let your claims be what they will. If you desire to make such hope on my part a cause of quarrel, I have nothing to say against it.' And then he twirled all that he could twirl of that incipient moustache.

'By no means,' said Graham.

'Oh, very well,' said Fitzallen. 'Then we understand that the arena of love is open to us both. I do not fail to appreciate the immense advantages which you enjoy in this struggle.' And then Fitzallen looked up into Graham's ugly face, and thought of his own appearance in the looking-glass.

'What I want to know is this,' said Felix. 'If you marry Mary Snow, what means have you of maintaining her? Would your mother receive her into her house? I presume you are not a