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A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Between comrades it is the most usual thing in the world, and I do not see how your sex intervenes.
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