squarely in the face. "No accident?"

"Nothing," said the other man in brown shortly. "Nothing at all,

thanks."

But," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with a great effort, "the young lady is

crying. I thought perhaps--"

The Young Lady in Grey started, gave Hoopdriver one swift glance, and

covered one eye with her handkerchief. "It's this speck," she said.

This speck of dust in my eye."

"This lady," said the other man in brown, explaining, "has a gnat in her

eye."

There was a pause. The young lady busied herself with her eye. "I

believe it's out," she said. The other man in brown made movements

indicating commiserating curiosity concerning the alleged fly. Mr.

Hoopdriver--the word is his own--stood flabber-gastered. He had all the

intuition of the simple-minded. He knew there was no fly. But the

ground was suddenly cut from his feet. There is a limit to

knighterrantry--dragons and false knights are all very well, but flies!

Fictitious flies! Whatever the trouble was, it was evidently not his

affair. He felt he had made a fool of himself again. He would have

mumbled some sort of apology; but the other man in brown gave him no

time, turned on him abruptly, even fiercely. "I hope," he said, "that

The Wheels of Chance