Darnley rallied him with a dry shamelessness about his confessed infatuation for the stonecutter’s daughter; and Christie, turning every now and then an almost elfish smile toward his voluble talk, actually offered, as she filled his cup for the third or fourth time, to help him in his adventure by inviting the young woman herself, whom she said she knew perfectly well, to have tea with him any afternoon he liked to name!

“She is beautiful,” the girl repeated. “I love to watch her. But I warn you, Mr. Solent, you’ll have many rivals.”