"I thould think not," responds Guy, with an emphasis that his friend would certainly have remarked, had they not at this moment drawn up at the door of their café.

Guy has not the felicity of sitting next to Mrs. Scarlett at dinner, Mrs. Vivian is placed between her and her young adorer. A disinterested observer might be amused to watch the unmistakeable devotion of the lad. Guy is not at all amused, he can only feel lost in astonishment how a woman like Milly can tolerate such a forward young fool.

Mrs. Vivian, who all the afternoon has been flattering herself that she will make Guy the captive of her bow and spear, feels somewhat chagrined at finding how absent his replies are, and how little effect the charming toilette she has donned for his especial benefit seems

to have upon him. She really looks young and pretty to-night, and she knows it. But she cannot help being aware that Guy's whole thoughts and attention are riveted on Milly, and though they are really the greatest friends, no woman can feel that her charms are placed in the shade by those of another woman without a slight temporary diminution in her friendship.

Whatever the other three may do, it is quite certain that Guy and Mrs. Vivian do not find the dinner a very sociable or pleasant one; however, there is compensation in store for both of them, as there very often is when things seem to be going utterly wrong. Mr. Thornton, to his infinite regret, has to take his mother and sister to the Opera (a very pleasant companion, I daresay, they will find him ;) and at the door of the theatre Mrs. Vivian meets a young Frenchman who was immensely

VOL. I.

I

attentive to her at a ball some few nights previous, and who is only too charmed to accept a seat in her box, and devote himself entirely to her during the evening.

Guy sits at the back of the box. He can see the stage, but the turn of a well-shaped head seems to interest him infinitely more than the sprightly performance. Hitherto, he has been wont to be vastly pleased with the chic impersonator of "La Grande Duchesse;" but some how it jars upon him a littlė to-night-he feels the uneasy sensation at his chest that corresponds to a woman's blush. While the scene between Fritz and his enamoured mistress is going forward, he half expects the ladies to rise in a paroxysm of outraged virtue and leave the theatre. Guy is quite a man of the world, but he has a trick, as many of the best of his sex have, of making too wide a gulf in his mind between virtuous women and fast

women, and setting those he cares for on a pedestal uncomfortably out of reach of the

exigencies of everyday life. Few women appreciate such veneration, it gênes them to act up to so high a standard; but fortunately, as long as a man is really in love, a woman, do what she may, can hardly lessen his belief in her.

Milly's eyes are fixed on the stage-she neither speaks, nor turns, nor smiles; perhaps her eyes flash a little, but Guy cannot see that he chooses to think she is disgusted. Mrs. Vivian evidently enjoys the performance immensely; her companion is lost in rapture. At the end of the scene Charles Vivian rises in his usual abrupt manner.

"Such a thing wouldn't be tolerated in London," he says indignantly; (it was before the Offenbachian element had been introduced with so much success in

England). "I wonder modest women can sit and look on. I'm going; you'll see them home, Guy," and he vanishes impetuously.

"Where is Charlie gone ?" inquires his wife, sweetly.

"He's gone to smoke a cigar," Guy makes answer, taking the chair next to Mrs. Scarlett. She turns and smiles at him; her eyes meet his, and send a thrill of pleasure to his heart.

Charming music, is it not," she whispers.

"Awfully jolly!" And he forgets his outraged propriety, and thinks of nothing but the intense and new sensation of pleasure it gives him to sit next this woman, who is not beautiful, not moulded like a Diana or a Venus, or any other mythological personage.

She turns to him now and then. I sup