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cousins together; it was obvious that Pamela did not much want him to stay. But later, as the two men were going home together, Tony’s thoughts returned to her persistently.

“Why do we always quarrel? It’s my fault, I suppose—I shouldn’t have let myself be started off the first time we met . . . naturally she couldn’t see it. I think that if she were older she would annoy me very much; her manner of putting one quite outside the pale is . . . But she’s such a baby really, and how should she know? And so I’m amused, and that makes her much angrier, and we go on. . . . It’s rather silly. She does snub me too!”

He laughed suddenly, and Archie stared. He had been talking, but just then he had said nothing that called for such appreciation. But it was not worth bothering about. He went on speaking, and Tony resumed his thoughts; Archie would have been neither interested nor particularly pleased by them.

“I can’t take her seriously, she’s so young—and so spoilt—and so very pretty—and with it all I don’t believe she has had such a splendid time. Her life is too well padded. But she can’t get outside, and she never will—and I believe she was angry with me for suggesting that ‘outside’ was a bigger place. . . . I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, and I suppose it would have been politer of me to stand there and make top-dressing conversation until I was summarily dismissed. . . . I don’t know why I’m dwelling on Pamela Trent, unless it is that she snubs me viciously, while everybody else is studiously affable. . . . It must be funny to believe that you have a sort of divine right to the luxury of this earth . . . and very comfortable. . . . Blood will tell! Of course it will—but hardly as she meant . . . I daresay I have some of that blue blood (which always sounds so unpleasantly anæmic) myself, from the Ste. Croix. Awful blackguards, but God knows the name is