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 been called abroad. Phyllida is attractive, she is rich; for people who care about these things, she is the daughter of an earl. Undeniably young Butler had been glamoured by it all at first; but he may well have felt on reconsideration that it would not be a very suitable match, and I have yet to learn that a man thinks more highly of a girl because she throws herself at his head. That is a lesson which the rising generation will have to learn—at a heavy price.

I felt that some such thoughts must be passing through Spenworth’s mind every time he said: “The fellow’s not coming to-night. Can’t some one persuade that child to have some food instead of giving herself a chill?” Brackenbury and Ruth, too, were beginning to doubt and to look very much concerned. If the young man had sheered off, they would never forgive themselves for allowing the unhappy girl to make such an exhibition of herself. . . In my heart of hearts I knew that Colonel Butler could be trusted as I would trust my own son. I was only afraid that there might have been an accident. . . And I could fancy what poor Phyllida’s feelings must be after assembling all the family to meet her soldier-hero, after telling me at the top of her very clear little voice that, if he did not propose to her, she would propose to