"What a miserable, pasty, milk-and-watery young person she is beside that magnificent, unconscious beauty! I give in, Phil! I admit your taste.
I'm willing to swear that she's a Sun-Angel if you like.

Her voice has convinced me of that." At that instant the song ceased.

Errington turned and regarded him steadfastly.
"Are _you_ hit, George ?" he said softly, with a forced smile.
Lorimer's face flushed, but he met his friend's eyes frankly.
"I am no poacher, old fellow," he answered in the same quiet accents; "I think you know that.

If that girl's mind is as lovely as her face, I say, go in and win!" Sir Philip smiled.

His brow cleared and an expression of relief settled there.