At this point Mr. Dinks made free with the lips of Miss Newt.

“Pah!  Alfred, my dear, you have been drinking wine,” said she, moving gently away from him.

“Of course I have, darling; haven’t I dined?” replied Alfred, renewing the endearment.

Now Fanny’s costume was too careful, her hair too elaborately arranged, to withstand successfully these osculatory onsets.

“Alfred, dear, we may as well understand these little matters at once,” said she.

“What little matters, darling?” inquired Mr. Dinks, with interest.  He was unwontedly animated, but, as he explained—­he had dined.

“Why, this kissing business.”

“You dear!” cried Alfred, impetuously committing a fresh breach of the peace.

“Stop, Alfred,” said Fanny, imperiously.  “I won’t have this.  I mean,” said she, in a mollified tone, remembering that she was only engaged, not married—­“I mean that you tumble me dreadfully.  Now, dear, I’ll make a little rule.  You know you don’t want your Fanny to look mussed up, do you, dear?” and she touched his cheek with the tip of one finger.  Dinks shook his head negatively.  “Well, then, you shall only kiss me when I am in my morning-dress, and one kiss, with hands off, when we say good-night.”

She smiled a little cold, hard, black smile, smoothing her rumpled feathers, and darting glances at herself in the large mirror opposite, as if she considered her terms the most reasonable in the world.

“It seems to me very little,” said Alfred Dinks, discontentedly; “besides, you always look best when you are dressed.”

“Thank you, love,” returned Fanny; “just remember the morning-dress, please, for I shall; and now tell me all about your conversation with your mother.”

Alfred told the story.  Fanny listened with alarm.  She had watched Mrs. Dinks closely during the whole summer, and she was sure—­for Fanny knew herself thoroughly, and reasoned accordingly—­that the lady would stop at nothing in the pursuit of her object.

“What a selfish woman it is!” thought Fanny.  “Not content with Alfred’s share of the inheritance, she wants to bring the whole Burt fortune into her family.  How insatiable some people are!”

“Alfred, has your mother seen Hope since she talked with you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you warn her not to?”

“I didn’t think of it.”

“But why didn’t you think of it?  If you’d only have put her off, we could have got time,” said Fanny, a little pettishly.

“Got time for what?” asked Alfred, blankly.

“Alfred,” said Fanny, coaxing herself to speak gently, “I’m afraid you will be trying, dear.  I am very much afraid of it.”

The lover looked doubtful and alarmed.

“Don’t look like a fool, Alfred, for Heaven’s sake!” cried Fanny; but she immediately recovered herself, and said, with a smile, “You see, dear, how I can scold if I want to.  But you’ll never let me, I know.”