craftsman. At last he handed them back to me. "Do you think," he said, "on the evidence of these, I should be doing wrong in breaking with her?" "Wrong in breaking with her!" I exclaimed. "You would be doing wrong if you didn't,--wrong to yourself; wrong to your family; wrong, if I may venture to say so, to Daphne; wrong even in the long run to the girl herself; for she is not fitted for you, and she IS fitted for Reggie Nettlecraft. Now, do as I bid you. Sit down at once and write her a letter from my dictation." He sat down and wrote, much relieved that I took the responsibility off his shoulders. "DEAR MISS MONTAGUE," I began, "the inclosed letters have come into my hands without my seeking it. After reading them, I feel that I have absolutely no right to stand between you and the man of your real choice. It would not be kind or wise of me to do so. I release you at once, and consider myself released. You may therefore regard our engagement as irrevocably cancelled. "Faithfully yours, "CECIL HOLSWORTHY." "Nothing more than that?" he asked, looking up and biting his pen. "Not a word of regret or apology?" "Not a word," I answered. "You are really too lenient." I made him take it out and post it before he could invent conscientious scruples. Then he turned to me irresolutely. "What shall I do next?" he asked, with a comical air of doubt. I smiled. "My dear fellow, that is a matter for your own consideration." "But--do you think she will laugh at me?" "Miss Montague?" "No! Daphne." "I am not in not in Daphne's confidence," I answered. "I don't know how she feels. But, on the face of it, I think I can venture to assure you that at least she won't laugh at you." He grasped my hand hard. "You don't mean to say so!" he cried. "Well, that's really very, kind of her! A girl of Daphne's high type! And I, who feel myself so utterly unworthy of her!"