The letter was full of gratitude for his thoughtfulness about her, for the pretty tributes of his love which he had sent her, the books and music and ribbons and gloves, in the purchase whereof he had found such a novel pleasure.

It had been a common thing for him to execute such commissions for his sister; but it was quite a new sensation to him to discuss the colours of gloves and ribbons, now that the trifles he chose were to give pleasure to Marian Nowell.

He knew every tint that harmonised or contrasted best with that clear olive complexion--the brilliant blue that gave new brightness to the sparkling grey eyes, the pink that cast warm lights upon the firmly-moulded throat and chin--and he found a childish delight in these trivialities.

There was one ribbon he selected for her at this time which he had strange reason to remember in the days to come--a narrow blue ribbon, with tiny pink rosebuds upon it, a daring mixture of the two colours.
He had the letter in the breast-pocket of his coat when he met John Saltram at the station, and entertained that gentleman with certain passages from it as they sped down to Maidenhead.

To which passages Mr.
Saltram listened kindly, with a very vague notion of the writer.
"I am afraid she is rather a namby-pamby person," he thought, "with nothing but her beauty to recommend her.