ly, and I suppose he thought that settled it, as he dropped the subject. I noticed that he seemed to be eagerly searching for some one in the crowd, and at last I saw his eyes rest upon his unprepossessing friend.
"Are you afraid your friend is not enjoying himself?" I asked, rather cheekily I admit.
He reddened slightly. "Captain Dillington always enjoys himself," he said quietly. "He is very happy in society."
I remembered Letty's story of Damon and Pythias, and longed to know something of these two young men, one of whom at least was different from the ordinary drawing-room specimen. Arthur Ravener was certainly attractive, and I felt I was going to be interested in him, so I must be excused if I showed too much curiosity.
"How rarely you find two really sincere friends," I remarked, rather sentimentally. "The present time seems to be wonderfully unsuited to such a tie."
"That is true"—very laconically.
"I think there is nothing so beautiful as friendship," I went on, with persistence.
