Two telegrams are enough to settle the business,--one from the eyes of the man, the other from those of the woman.

You and Miss Gueldmar must have exchanged a dozen such messages at least." "And you ?" inquired Errington persistently.

"You had the same chance as myself." George shrugged his shoulders.

"My dear boy, there are no wires of communication between the Sun-angel and myself; nothing but a blank, innocent landscape, over which perhaps some day, the mild lustre of friendship may beam.

The girl is beautiful--extraordinarily so; but I'm not a 'man o' wax,' as Juliet's gabbling old nurse says--not in the least impressionable." And forthwith he resumed his oar, saying briskly as he did so-- "Phil, do you know those other fellows must be swearing at us pretty forcibly for leaving them so long with Dyceworthy.