“Because I could not make an appointment with a young lady in my bachelor’s apartments.”
“That’s all very fine. But I am there.”
“Yes, you—but you are only an imaginary character, and she is a substantial reality.”
“I think I had better accompany you,” said Lady Mabel.
“I think not. If your ladyship will kindly occupy my fauteuil till I return, that chair will ever after be sacred to me. Come along, Poppy.”
“I’m game,” said she.
On reaching the riverside Joseph saw that Miss Vincent was walking there in a listless manner, not straight, but swerving from side to side. She saw him, but did not quicken her pace, nor did her face light up with interest.
“Now, then,” said he to Poppy, “what do you think of her?”
“She ain’t bad,” answered the fictitious character; “she is very pretty cer
