"Poor little mite, fatherless and motherless, and only that she-dragon with a face and heart of stone, to turn to for sympathy or comfort. I wonder what will become of her! Will her future life continue to be one of such dreary hardship and stern surroundings at that to which she has always been accustomed!"
Then with a sigh and a smile he placed the bluebell in his pocketbook with the muttered words, "Good-bye to my first courtship! We have drifted apart as suddenly as we met!"
[CHAPTER IV]
OLD FRIENDS
FIFTEEN years after.
A London drawing-room on a bright spring afternoon. It was Lady Chatterton's at home day, and the room was fairly filled with well-dressed men and women; the hostess moving in and out amongst them with that nameless charm of tone and manner that made her so popular in society.
Standing by the entrance door were two men, one a fresh arrival, who looked around him with amused curiosity.
"I am not a society man," he was saying to his friend; "and it always strikes me at these kind of gatherings what an awful waste of time it is. I am not at home amongst perfumed silks and satins."
"Nonsense, man! Now you are known as old Sir Peter's heir, you will be made welcome anywhere. Dozens of these young ladies will be charmed to make your acquaintance."
"Who is that girl in grey by the window?" asked the former speaker, rather abruptly.