"Georgie"
come to nothing, after all. Ah, here is Georgie."
"Hallo!" he said. "I can only get a sixpenny blotter with the King and Queen on the back. Good enough to write novels with, I dare say. Martin, can I—"
"I'm going to see if there's anything for supper." Drusilla vanished.
Georgie sat down and planted his elbows on some loose pages of "The Hidden Princess."
"It's Anne," said he. "I couldn't tell Drusilla. The thought of it is wearing me to fiddlestrings. It's Anne."
"Poor old boy," said I with real sympathy.
"It's that chap Muggeridge," pursued he. "Follows her about like a shadow. Hasn't the decency to see that it isn't the thing to run after an engaged girl. Anne's very loyal, but I can't help seeing that she might be happier with a humdrum chap like that, even if he is a bit of an old woman."
"What! "cried I.
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