convinced that I could never make Arthur jealous. It was rather a risky thing to do. I asked Hector Dasy to bring me a book that I particularly wanted, and kept him during the entire afternoon, my willing slave. Before this, I told James to give Mr. Ravener's letters into my possession and to inform his master, as soon as he came in, that I had them. I did this merely in order that Arthur should be forced to enter the drawing-room and see how nicely Hector Dasy and I agreed.
Never had any afternoon passed so slowly for me. The presence of this young man annoyed me intensely and all the more because in order to keep him, I was forced to talk prettily and incessantly. Mr. Dasy was something of a coxcomb with all his bashfulness. I saw with alarm that he really imagined I liked him. I wondered what he would have said if I had told him the true facts of the case. Just before six o'clock, which was my husband's time for returning from town, when he passed the day there, I completed my Macchiavellianism. I had purchased a quantity of wool, which I wanted wound. I was
