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Then he glanced curiously at Philip, who sat
silent, but whose face was very grave and earnest,--even noble, with
that shade of profound thought upon it. He looked like one who had
suddenly accepted a high trust, in which there was not only pride, but
tenderness. Lorimer shook himself together, as he himself would have
expressed it, and touched his friend's arm half-playfully.
"You've met the king's daughter of Norroway after all, Phil;" and his
light accents had a touch of sadness in them; "and you'll have to bring
her home, as the old song says. I believe the 'eligible' is caught at
last. The 'woman' of the piece has turned up, and your chum must play
second fiddle--eh, old boy?"
Errington flushed hotly, but caught Lorimer's hand and pressed it with
tremendous fervor.
"By Jove, I'll wring it off your wrist if you talk in that fashion,
George!" he said, with a laugh. "You'll always be the same to me, and
you know it. I tell you," and he pulled his moustache doubtfully, "I
don't know quite what's the matter with me.


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