“‘Well,’ I said, as soon as the girl had closed the door behind her, ’so you’ve got rid of Smith?’

“A sickly smile passed over his face.  ’You have not mentioned it to any one?’ he asked anxiously.

“‘Not to a soul,’ I replied; ‘though I confess I often feel tempted to.’

“‘I sincerely trust you never will,’ he said, in a tone of alarm.  ’You can have no conception of the misery the whole thing causes me.  I cannot understand it.  What possible affinity there can be between myself and that disgusting little snob passes my comprehension.  I assure you, my dear Mac, the knowledge that I was a ghoul, or a vampire, would cause me less nausea than the reflection that I am one and the same with that odious little Whitechapel bounder.  When I think of him every nerve in my body—­’

“‘Don’t think about him any more,’ I interrupted, perceiving his strongly-suppressed emotion.  ’You didn’t come here to talk about him, I’m sure.  Let us dismiss him.’

“‘Well,’ he replied, ’in a certain roundabout way it is slightly connected with him.  That is really my excuse for inflicting the subject upon you.  You are the only man I can speak to about it—­if I shall not bore you?’

“‘Not in the least,’ I said.  ‘I am most interested.’  As he still hesitated, I asked him point-blank what it was.

“He appeared embarrassed.  ‘It is really very absurd of me,’ he said, while the faintest suspicion of pink crossed his usually colourless face; ’but I feel I must talk to somebody about it.  The fact is, my dear Mac, I am in love.’

“‘Capital!’ I cried; ‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ (I thought it might make a man of him.) ‘Do I know the lady?’

“‘I am inclined to think you must have seen her,’ he replied; ’she was with me on the pier at Yarmouth that evening you met me.’

“’Not ‘Liza!’ I exclaimed.

“‘That was she,’ he answered; ‘Miss Elizabeth Muggins.’  He dwelt lovingly upon the name.

“‘But,’ I said, ’you seemed—­I really could not help noticing, it was so pronounced—­you seemed to positively dislike her.  Indeed, I gathered from your remark to a friend that her society was distinctly distasteful to you.’

“‘To Smith,’ he corrected me.  ’What judge would that howling little blackguard be of a woman’s worth!  The dislike of such a man as that is a testimonial to her merit!’

“‘I may be mistaken,’ I said; ‘but she struck me as a bit common.’

“‘She is not, perhaps, what the world would call a lady,’ he admitted; ’but then, my dear Mac, my opinion of the world is not such as to render its opinion of much value to me.  I and the world differ on most subjects, I am glad to say.  She is beautiful, and she is good, and she is my choice.’

“‘She’s a jolly enough little girl,’ I replied, ’and, I should say, affectionate; but have you considered, Smythe, whether she is quite—­what shall we say—­quite as intellectual as could be desired?’