"If you will give me a few more lessons," he says, humbly, "I dare say I shall improve."
"No, I can't afford to waste my time, and you are too tiresome. Let us go into the drawing-room."
"Rather let us stay here for a while," he says, earnestly. "They are all out, and I—I have something to say to you."
During the last half-hour one of the men has come in and given the fire a poke and lit the lamps, so that the room looks quite seductive. Miss Chesney, glancing doubtfully round, acknowledges so much, and prepares to give in.
"I hope it is something pleasant," she says, àpropos of Archie's last remark. "You have been looking downright miserable for days. I hope sincerely, you are not going melancholy mad, but I have my doubts of it. What is the matter with you, Archie? You used to be quite a charming companion, but now you are very much the reverse. Sometimes, when with you, your appearance is so dejected that if I smile I feel absolutely heartless. Do try to cheer up, there's a good boy."
"A fellow can't be always simpering, especially when he is wretched," retorts he, moodily.
"Then don't be wretched. That is the very thing to which I object. You are the very last man in the world who ought to suffer from the blues. Anything wrong with you?"
"Everything. I love a woman who doesn't care in the very least for me."
"Oh, so that is what you have been doing in London, is it?" says Lilian, after a short pause that makes her words still more impressive. "I certainly did think you weren't in a very great hurry to return, and that you looked rather blighted when you did come. I doubt you have been dancing the 'Geliebt und verloren' waltzes once too often. Did she refuse you?"