him so readily. Moved by this honourable, if tardy, compunction, he ejaculated,
"Oh, don't say that, Miss Medland. I never thought—I—I mean, surely you don't mean—?" And then he came to a dead stop for a moment; only to start abruptly again the next, with—"It would spoil my happiness, if I thought—you don't really mean it, do you? I don't know how I should ask you to forgive me, if you do."
Daisy's plot (which it is not sought to justify) had been crowned with success. A mischievous smile replaced her innocent expression.
"What do you mean, Mr. Derosne? Forgive you? I was speaking of my own feelings."
"Yes, so—so I understood, and I wanted to say that I hoped you wouldn't think I had been inconsid——"
"What does it matter to me, how long or how short your wooing is? They say lovers are self-centred, but really I think you're the worst I ever met. I must confess I wasn't thinking of you, Mr. Derosne."
"What?" exclaimed Dick.
"Is it possible you haven't heard of my engagement?" she asked in the sweetest tone.
"Your——"
"Yes—to Mr. Norburn," and she watched the effect with obvious pleasure.