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We have got to deal with this slavery question, and got to give much more attention to it hereafter than we have been doing." Author of "The Prisoner of Zenda," "The Dolly Dialogues," etc. Kennett Hipgrave. and of Mr.
"And he won a hundred louis of me in the train between Cannes and Monte Carlo." "Not bad going, that," observed Denny, in an approving tone. "Is he, then, un grec?" asked Mrs. Hipgrave, who loves a scrap of French. "In both senses, I believe," answered Hamlyn, viciously. "And what's his name?" said I. "Really, I don't recollect," said Hamlyn, rather petulantly.
I went to bed, still thinking of my purchase, and I recollect that the last thing which came into my head before I went to sleep was, "What did she mean by pointing to the ring?" Well, I found an answer to that later on. Until the moment of our parting came, I had no idea that Beatrice Hipgrave felt my going at all.
Bennett Hamlyn, a rich young man who gives promise of seeing that Miss Hipgrave does not wholly lack a man's attentions in the absence of her lover, sets put to enter possession of a remote Greek island, Neopalia, which he has purchased of the hereditary lord, Stefanopoulos. But on arriving he finds himself anything but welcome.
Indeed, for the moment, my island monopolized my mind, and my attachment to Beatrice was not of such a romantic character as to make me ready to be jealous on slight grounds. Mrs. Hipgrave said the engagement was based on "general suitability." Now it is difficult to be very passionate over that. "If you don't mind, I don't," said Denny, reasonably. "That's right.
Looking up, I saw Miss Hipgrave, her mother, and young Bennett Hamlyn standing before me. I disliked young Hamlyn, but he was always very civil to me. "Why, how early you two have dined!" cried Beatrice. "You're at the savory, aren't you? We've only just come." "Are you going to dine?" I asked, rising. "Take this table; we're just off." "Well, we may as well, mayn't we?" said my fiancée.
Hipgrave saw fit to intrude on our interview at this point, and she at once pooh-poohed the notion, declaring that I should be better out of the way for a few months. Beatrice did not resist her mother's conclusion; but when we were alone again, she became very agitated, begging me always to think well of her, and asking if I were really attached to her.
Kennett Hipgrave had insisted on this delay in order that we might be sure that we knew our own hearts. And as I may say without unfairness that Mrs. Hipgrave was to a considerable degree responsible for the engagement she asserted the fact herself with much pride I thought that she had a right to some voice in the date of the marriage.
"I'm awfully happy to give you a dinner, anyhow, Miss Beatrice." Now, I had nothing to say on this subject, but I thought I would just make this remark: "Miss Hipgrave," said I, "is very fond of a dinner." Beatrice laughed. She understood my little correction. "He doesn't know any better, do you?" said she, pleasantly, to Hamlyn. "We shall civilize him in time, though.
"Oh," answered she, "I was only saying that men like you were invented to give dinners; you're a sort of automatic feeding-machine. You ought to stand open all day. Really, I often miss you at lunch time." "My dear Beatrice!" said Mrs. Kennett Hipgrave, with that peculiar lift of her brows that meant, "How naughty the dear child is! Oh, but how clever!" "It's all right," said Hamlyn, meekly.
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