There was a catch in her voice, as she uttered that soft, dreamy sentence, almost a sigh.

She turned her face away suddenly and then arose, crying in tones so low and despairing that he could hardly believe they came from the usually merry lips: "Oh, how I envy her this life and love! How wonderful it all is!" "It has its drawbacks," he lamented.

"As a brother I am a nonentity, Lady Huntingford; it's not altogether relishable, you know.

It's a sort of pantomime, for me, by Jove.

I'm the fool, and this seems to be the fool's errand." "If you will play a part in the pantomime, Mr.Ridge, let an Englishwoman suggest that you be the harlequin.