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Archie was a simple soul, and, as is the case with most simple souls, gratitude came easily to him. He appreciated kind treatment. And when, on the following day, Lucille returned to the Hermitage, all smiles and affection, and made no further reference to Beauty's Eyes and the flies that got into them, he was conscious of a keen desire to show some solid recognition of this magnanimity.
Margaret reminded him of Lucille, he thought to himself, all except the eyes Lucille's eyes were black. "Yes, it's adorable," he replied, drinking in the fresh beauty of the young girl. "You are very pretty, my dear just like your mother." This line of attack had always succeeded in sounding the hearts of the young girls he had known.
She obeyed him, mystified. "For your own sake," he continued, "there are certain facts in connection with this matter which I must withhold. All I can tell you is this. There are people who have acquired a hold upon Lucille so great that she is forced to obey their bidding. Lady Carey is one, the Duchess of Dorset is another.
"Does Professor Winters look like a man who'd ever dare propose to a girl, let alone marry her?" And she stalked out of the room and up to the single where Lucille lived. "Lucille," said Patty, "what do you mean by spreading that story about Professor Winters's bride's mumps?" "You told it to me yourself," answered Lucille, with some warmth.
He turned abruptly and cannoned into Archie, who, in company with Lucille, happened to be crossing the lobby at the moment on his way to dine in their suite. Mr. Brewster apologised gruffly; then, recognising his victim, seemed to regret having done so. "Oh, it's you! Why can't you look where you're going?" he demanded. He had suffered much from his son-in-law.
Lady Margot looked her curiosity, and, when the nature of the game was explained in detail in Mollie's breezy language, went into peals of delighted laughter, and rocked to and fro in her chair. "How lovely oh, how lovely! I do think it is too funny! I must call you Berengaria and Lucille. Do you mind? Such wonderful names! How did you manage to hit on them?
Won't you understand?" "No," Mr. Sabin answered. She beat the ground with her foot. "You must understand," she murmured. "You are not like these fools of Englishmen who go to sleep when they are married, and wake in the divorce court. For the present at least you have lost Lucille. You heard her choose. She's at the ball to-night and I have come here to be with you.
"I think it was Charles Lamb," replied Lucille, "who once said that school-teachers are uncomfortable people, and, Harry, I would not like to make you uncomfortable by marrying you." "You will make me uncomfortable by not marrying me." "But," replied Lucille, "your mother may not prefer me for a daughter. You know, Harry, complexional prejudices are not confined to white people."
"Dam! What ever for?" "More money and less expenses." "Dam! You mercenary little toad! You grasping, greedy hog!... Why! I thought...." Lucille gazed straight and searchingly at her life-long friend for a full minute and then rose to her feet.
Harry's hand still clasped Lucille's, and he was leaning toward her in the eagerness of his appeal. "You, will? You promise? Lucille, you've made me happy," Pauline heard him say. Through mist-dimmed eyes, dizzily, she saw the two arise. She saw the man she loved clasp Lucille's other hand.
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