with my night-slippers. Good boy; stay here and wait for Missie."

"Take me with you," said Wellington, as plainly as he could with eyes
and tail. "Take me with you."

"Can't, old boy. Look"--she reached inside for a book she had been
reading, and laid it on the ground. "Keep that for Missie until she
comes back."

She smiled down at the great brute as it placed both forefeet upon the
volume, but she sighed as she leant for a moment on the rail, then
suddenly drew back as she heard her name mentioned by someone who,
hankering after a cigarette, had wandered out to the canvas rocking
seat directly beneath the balcony.

". . . Well!" said the masculine voice, "I think it's damned hard lines
on Miss Hethencourt, that's all; and a man wants a damned good hiding
for being a knave as well as a fool."

"Of course it's not gospel-truth," replied the voice of the hotel's
biggest-gossip-bar-none, who, on account of her abnormal interest in
other people's affairs, had earned the sobriquet of Paulina Pry, "but
some people I know who were at Heliopolis and have just come from
Assouan told me that Mr. Kelham is engaged to Miss Sidmouth--you know,
she is the crack lady-shot--and that they are on their way home now.
The engagement, I should think, will be announced shortly."

"Well, all I can say is that I'm infernally sorry that Miss Hethencourt
has been made the butt of gossip and scandal through a cad's behaviour,
and I think that you and I ought to be shot for discussing her and her