"But who is the other young girl?" interrupted his companion, impatiently. "According to my ideas of feminine loveliness, she's far the prettiest of the three."
"Hold on, my dear Royal Ainsley, lest you provoke a duel here and now. Remember, that trio contains the peerless Hildegarde," laughed Philip Ravenswood, relighting a fresh Havana.
"All allowance made for difference of opinion," smiled Ainsley; "but really, Phil, who is the dark-eyed beauty this way?"
Little dreaming of what would come of those few idly spoken words, Philip Ravenswood answered, carelessly:
"Her name is Ida May. She's the only living relative of the Mays of Boston, I understand. I do not know the Mays personally, but know them well by reputation. They are fabulously rich, it is generally believed ."
"Suppose you introduce me to the Three Graces," said Royal Ainsley, banteringly.
His companion flushed, and looked a trifle uncomfortable.
"At another time, my dear fellow," he said, answering[7] Ainsley's question after a moment's pause. "Let the girls enjoy their rhapsodies over the sunset in peace this time. We really haven't time just now. The fellows are waiting for us at the club, you know."
But Ainsley refused to go on; yet he did it in such a gay, off-hand, rollicking, fun-loving fashion, his friend did not see the fixed purpose in his action.
He was quite sure that if they stood there long enough they could not help attracting the attention of the pretty maidens, and there was no time like the present to meet them. In this surmise, he was quite correct. Attracted by the sound of voices almost behind them, Miss Ryder glanced around .
"Hildegarde—Ida!" she exclaimed, in a flutter of delighted surprise, "why, here is Mr. Ravenswood!"
She stopped short, for just then she observed that the handsome young gentleman in the white linen suit, standing a little apart from Mr. Ravenswood, was with him.
It was too late to beat a retreat then, for he had been discovered. He was certainly in for it, and there was no help for it but to bring his companion forward with the best possible grace and present him to the young ladies.
Ainsley bowed low in his most charming manner, raising, with a smile, his white straw hat from his fair, clustering hair, and Philip Ravenswood could see, with consternation, the apparent admiration for his friend on all three girlish faces, including Hildegarde, whom he had believed to be quite smitten with himself.
Royal Ainsley made the most of that next half hour on the sands. He was so brilliant, so witty, so clever, he fairly astonished his friend, used as he was to his gay[8] bon-mots and to see him the life of all the affairs at the club.
They chatted brightly enough, until Hildegarde exclaimed, with a little cry:
"Why, there is some bell striking seven!. We must get back to the hotel, girls, or we will never be dressed for dinner. Won't you stroll back that way with us?" she added, with a dazzling smile to both of the young gentlemen .
"I think not," replied Ainsley, quickly, taking it upon himself to answer for his friend. "We have an engagement, and have barely time to save ourselves from being the annoying cause of giving our friends a cold dinner."
