"Well," the boy spoke with a tinge of feeling beneath his banter "you've added to the list to-night, and I wish you joy of your acquisition! But don't say I didn't warn you." "No," said Mordaunt quietly. "I won't say that." He added a moment later, as he dropped the end of his cigarette into his coffee-cup, "I believe in my friends, Rupert." "Till they let you down," suggested Rupert.

She dropped a lump of sugar into her coffee-cup and read his hurried scrawl: "What do you think has happened now? I have fourteen dollars' worth of telegrams from Sanderson wiring from some God-forsaken hole in Montana, that it's all rot about Armitage being that fake Baron von Kissel. Where, may I ask, does this leave me? And what cad gave that story to the papers?

If I wasn't her son, I hope I should still be the last person in the world to try to shake her faith or any one's, for that matter. I have merely turned my own back because I had to." The old man put down his coffee-cup and the look in his eyes was half-appealing. "What was it turned you, son? nothing I've ever said or done, I hope?" Tom shook his big blond head slowly.

I'll go and fetch my clarionet." He gave his empty coffee-cup to his wife, smiling to see her so friendly with la Peyrade. "What have you said and done to my husband?" asked Flavie, when Colleville had left them. "Must I tell you all our secrets?" "Ah! you don't love me," she replied, looking at him with the coquettish slyness of a woman who is not quite decided in her mind.

But on the matted floor and divan there were two or three fine Siné carpets; a couple of trophies of splendidly ornamented weapons adorned the wall; by his side, upon a small eight-sided table inlaid with tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl, stood a silver salver with an empty coffee-cup of beautiful workmanship, the stand of beaten gold, and the delicate shell of the most exquisite transparent china.

To accomplish it had required an elaborate series of deceptions, which Hester had carried through, apparently, without a qualm. Except that at the end of her story there was a passing reference to Aunt Alice "poor darling!" "who would have a fit if she knew." Philip, coffee-cup in hand, half smiling, looked at her meantime through his partially closed lids. Richard, indeed!

With the swiftness of lightning he whipped a pencil from his pocket, pushed aside his coffee-cup, and began to draw upon the marble-topped table as though his life depended upon his speed.

"The cold weather of this winter has tried her; has given her a cough. She will be better, I hope, when it comes in warm." "How do you feel, my dear?" inquired the doctor, apparently looking at his coffee-cup instead of Sibylla. "Weak here?" touching his chest. "Not more weak than I had used to be," she answered in a cross tone, as if the confession that she did feel weak was not pleasant to her.

The older man sighed heavily as he put down his coffee-cup. "I wish you would play to me." Jean went into the music-room, leaving the folding doors between open, and sat down at the piano. There was no light but the moon's, and Hilaire saw the beloved head dark against the silvery grey of the wall beyond. The skilled hands let loose a torrent of harmonies.

Her friend took up his hat and his umbrella, and after giving the former article two or three strokes with his coat-cuff, "On the whole, I think," he said, "you had better leave it to me." After he had left her she went, the first thing, and lifted from the mantel-shelf the attenuated coffee-cup in which he had mentioned the existence of a crack; but she looked at it rather abstractedly.