A Servant of the Public

by Anthony Hope

"Yes," said Ashley, smiling. He was relieved to find his word taken so readily. "But do you think you're doing it by staying here?"

"How rude you are! Why shouldn't I?"

"It's irregular. And somebody might come." He paused and added, "Suppose Metcalfe Brown dropped in?"

"What would he think?" cried Ora with sparkling eyes. "Is he a very steady young man?"

"I don't know; he's got a picture signed 'Yours ever, Daisy,' on his mantel-piece."

Ora's eyes shewed no recognition of "Daisy."

"The girl he's engaged to, I suppose," she said rather scornfully; high and unhappy passion is a little contemptuous of a humdrum engagement.

"Perhaps," said Ashley cautiously.

"Oh, he's moving about again; and he's singing! I wish we could hear better!" For the sound of the voice was very muffled. "I know that tune though. Where have I heard it before?"