more decidedly. "I would like to think him untruthful though."
"Pray do then," laughed George. "It is generally safe to doubt people; and if he has told you anything unpleasant, don't believe him. At least," he said, suddenly becoming grave, leaning forward, and looking me in the face, "do not let his words, whatever they were, make you so sad. He has ruined your evening for you, I see. Believe me, nothing that he can tell you is worth a moment's unhappiness, unless it is something which concerns you personally, which is not likely. In any case," gazing at me with a gleam of warmer interest than usual in his eyes, "do not let anything he says make you look so wretched as you did when I came up to you just now. I—" Before he could finish his sentence, or I could reply, Alice came in, with the others of our party, and we wended our way towards the door.
George's few words put new courage into me, for some reason, and I felt quite cheerful when we reached home, so that I proposed to Judith to awaken Tom and Grace, and give them an account of our adventures. We had some difficulty in arousing them, but at last succeeded in getting Grace up. She enveloped herself in a wrapper, and came out into her dressing-room to listen to our narrative.
"Well, Grace," I said, tilting myself on the arm of a chair, "you never saw anything so magnificent in your life. We walked through a mile or two of corridors and halls, brilliantly lighted with candles—"
