“I—I was very jealous of him,” he admitted almost in a whisper.

The blue eyes were raised again very eloquently to his.

“You had no cause,” she said gently; “and Mr. Blatherwick, haven’t you forgotten something?”

Mr. Blatherwick had sipped his glass of champagne, and answered without a stutter.

“I have not,” he said, “forgotten you!”

“You used to call me by my Christian name!”

“I should be delighted to call you Miss—Blanche for ever,” he said boldly. “May I?”

She laughed softly.

“Well, I don’t quite know about that,” she said; “you may for this morning, at least. It is so pleasant to see you again. How is the work getting on?”

He groaned.