'I hope not,' I exclaimed apprehensively. 'Whose is this?'
'Archie's.'
'May I see a bit?'
'Not a bit,' said Dolly. 'Archie's is—is rather foolish, Mr. Carter.'
'So I suppose,' said I.
'Dear boy!' said Dolly reflectively.
'I hate sentiment,' said I. 'Here's a long one. Who wrote?'
'Oh, you mustn't look at that—not at that, above all!'
'Why above all?' I asked with some severity.
Dolly smiled; then she observed in a soothing tone,—
'Perhaps it won't be "above all" when you've written yours, Mr. Carter.'
'By the way,' I said carelessly, 'I suppose Archie sees all of them?'
'He has never asked to see them,' answered Lady Mickleham.
The reply seemed satisfactory; of course, Archie had only to ask. I took a clean quill and prepared to write.
'You promise to be sincere, you know,' Dolly reminded me.
I laid down my pen.
'Impossible!' said I firmly.
'Oh, but why, Mr. Carter?'
'There would be an end of our friendship.
'Do you think as badly of me as all that?' asked Dolly with a rueful air.
I leant back in my chair and looked at Dolly.
