whatever I may be

and wherever I am, whatever I

doing, I will come to you."

Dolores looks up at him eagerly. "Will you," she falters-" will you write to me just once or twice when you are in England, before you have quite forgotten me ?"

"I shall never forget you, my child; but I will send you a letter sometimes, if you wish it."

"And some day, when you are in Paris, in the gay world, will you remember poor Dolores, and come out here to see her ?"

"Yes, dear, that I will. And now I must go; there is no more time to spare."

The poor child holds his hand quite

tight for a moment, as though she cannot bear to let him go; then she says, sobbing,

Adieu, Monsieur adieu !"

Guy feels as if he should cry himself if he stayed any longer. He draws her close

to him and kisses her tenderly, without speaking a word; then he tears himself away, and hurries down the hill without once looking back.

He felt utterly miserable during the journey back to Paris. He did not even think of Milly, or that he was going to see her; it would have seemed too cruel to indulge one pleasant thought while this poor child was breaking her heart about him.

212

CHAPTER XI.

GUY'S TURN.

T was about one o'clock when Guy en

IT

tered his rooms in Paris. Some letters were lying on the table-a note from Adrian on the top.

"MY DEAR GUY-In case you return before I get back, I leave a line to tell you that we're all off to Versailles for the day-we being the Vivians, Mrs. Scarlett, and myself. What an awfully jolly little woman she is! I'm tremendously obliged to you for putting me in the way of such a good thing, and shall be more so still if it comes to anything. I shouldn't wonder. I like

her amazingly, and she seems to reciprocate. I've made the most of my time; we've been together the whole of the last three days. By the way, I've smoked all your cigars, but I have left an address with Stevens, where Fox tells me you can get rattling good ones, but be sure to mention his name. We are going-a nice little parti carré-to the theatre to-night. Crichton kindly takes Mrs. Vivian off, and I look after the charming widow. Old Vivian tells me she has £3,000 a-year, which she doesn't lose-too good a chance to let slip, though I hate the thought of marrying like the devil.

"Your affectionate brother,

"ADRIAN CHARTERIS.

"P.S.-Vivian wants you to dine and go to Mabille with him. Mrs. Scarlett, it seems, saw you sitting with your mysteri

ous little visitor drinking coffee on Friday night."

As Guy read the letter the colour gradually flushed into his face-a sickening sensation came over him-the room seemed to reel. Stevens came in hurriedly at this moment.

"Beg pardon, Sir Guy; I didn't expect you quite so soon. Shall I order some lunch, Sir Guy? The Captain's gone out. He left a letter, and I was to be sure and give you this card with the cigar-merchant's address."

"All right," said Guy, collecting himself with an effort. "I don't want anything at present; come back in an hour."

Stevens disappeared, and Guy sat down and looked out of the window. He saw nothing, felt nothing, at first; it was as if he had been stunned by a heavy blow.