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Elizabeth's Pretenders

"He arrived by the last train. As I passed by the salon just now, I looked in. They were there together in close conversation."

"I hate that young man!" said Hatty, viciously. "I always hated him, since Fontainebleau. What on earth does he come here for?"

"Well, I should think it was pretty plain. If he is encouraged to stay, you will acknowledge you were too sanguine—eh? The fellow has youth, social cleverness, high spirits. I am ten years older, and though, I suppose, I have better brains, have no facility for using them in company, and have very little gas in my composition. If she finds me dull———"

"She does not. You were disagreeable to her at one time, but dull—never."

"We are fast friends now; I know it. But she does not guess that she is much more to me than that; and it may be this young fellow touches something in her that I never could touch. Why should I be surprised if it is so? I have no false modesty, Hatty. I know my own worth. But I try to have no delusions—on this subject, especially. I love her with all the strength of my nature. But during the six months I have known her, she has changed so much———"

"Not more than you have," interrupted Hatty. "I mean in manner towards her."

"But I have not played with fire. Elizabeth has. Understand, dear. I don't reproach her. What right have I? But I cannot jump so readily as you do to the conclusion that I have won her heart. You told me yourself you suspected she was recovering from some