somehow I think that when Lola Craven marries, it will be for love."
"Fiddlesticks," snapped Lady Drewitt.
"I quite agree, my dear aunt, the terms are synonymous; but young women are extremely self-willed in these matters. I'm inclined to attribute it to beauty-competitions and insufficient clothing."
"Then what are you going to do?" demanded Lady Drewitt, rising with a rustle of silk and a ruffled temper.
"I scarcely know," was the reply. "You see, aunt," this with an engaging smile, "you have a tendency to be precipitate. I am not Dante, nor is Miss Craven Beatrice," and with this Drewitt took his departure, leaving Lady Drewitt puzzled as to his meaning.
Half an hour later he was seated in his favourite chair, smoking a cigarette. When Lord Drewitt found that the burden of life oppressed him, he invariably returned to his flat and ordered Hoskins to make coffee.
"Hoskins," he remarked, as his man placed the coffee before him, "I often wonder why you don't demand half my income."
"Half your income, my lord!" exclaimed Hoskins, in surprise, looking too cherubic and beneficent to demand anything. He was a round-faced, fresh-coloured, chubby little man, with the expression of a happy boy.
"Because you know that I should have to give it to you. Without your coffee, Hoskins, I could
