No wonder you are tired. He is quite old-fashioned

"Do you think the writers of the present year better than Dickens?"

"It depends; of course Scott is older than Dickens, but then Scott is peerless. He will never grow old."

"Oh, indeed, I think he is tiresome beyond endurance!"

"Which of Scott's novels have you read?"

"Alas, all of them! I made myself read them. In literature, one has to know the worst, as well as the best; to make comparisons it is necessary, you see."

"You must find Dickens-"

"Delightful! He is so human you forgive all his exaggerations. I have read all of the Dickens novels. Have you?"

"I have read parts of some of them." "And you think they are"

"Well, rubbishy seems the exact and proper word for them."

She laughed in a low, inward fashion as if she was keeping something pleasant to herself; and Jan felt a touch of anger at her slighting remarks about the great Sir Walter. It was almost a national in

sult. But though she disagreed with everything he said, he found the conversation too fascinating to relinquish. Perhaps the fact that he had accepted everything and contradicted nothing for nearly a week made this intellectual dispute almost necessary.

Jan, however, was not a man whom a conversation about books could long satisfy; humanity was always much more interesting and the conversation quickly turned there. This girl had an unusual charm; it was fascinating to watch the soul flash into her face, flood it with color, and make the large, soft eyes glow with an interior light. One such vision made her beautiful forever, in the estimation of those who saw it; and Jan this morning was one of the few thus favored. Then he noticed anew the sylph-like grace of all her movements and remembered that when he first saw her she was dancing and her whole body was instinct with esprit, and that he had said to himself, "She dances better than any woman I ever before saw." He had asked her to dance once and she had refused, declaring her card to be filled for that evening; and Jan had not asked the second time. But as they were talking of dancing, she observed, "I promised you a dance later on one night, and you never asked for it."

"That was the night I came here?" "Yes. Suppose I pay my debt tonight?" "There should be some interest to satisfy the delay," answered Jan, smiling with delight.

"Well, then, I pay double; will that do?"

Jan thought it might meet present obligations and to his astonishment she added, "I have been contemplating asking your uncle, for you must know that twenty years ago he was the finest ballroom dancer in London. No entertainment was perfect without him."

"I never heard of such a thing and I am sure you have been misinformed."

"Lord Brougham told me so. Tonight I shall find out the truth."

As she spoke a young man entered the room and coming to her side, greeted her in an off-hand, indifferent way. "Are you not due at the court this morning, Miss Aslyn?" he asked, and she answered with an equal indifference:

"No, sir, athletics are not my kind of idolatry. The worship of the flesh is vulgar. I look higher." "Oh, to be sure, really! Well, good-by, then."

He did not speak to Jan and Jan had stood dourly impassive during the short interview. When it was over and they were again alone, Margaret