lately, as we used to be, and that the fault was mine. Which I sincerely felt, and which indeed it was.

‘The truth is, Dora, my life,’ I said; ‘I have been trying to be wise.’

‘And to make me wise too,’ said Dora, timidly.

‘Haven’t you, Doady?’

I nodded assent to the pretty inquiry of the raised eyebrows, and kissed the parted lips.

‘It’s of not a bit of use,’ said Dora, shaking her head, until the ear-rings rang again. ‘You know what a little thing I am, and what I wanted you to call me from the first. If you can’t do so, I am afraid you’ll never like me. Are you sure you don’t think, sometimes, it would have been better to have — ’