Yes, there was no doubt that this spoiled favorite of the public, who lived amid the excitements, the flatteries, the gratifications of the moment, with hardly a thought of the future, was dreadfully extravagant, though it was rarely on himself that he lavished his reckless expenditure.  Nina’s protests were of no avail; whenever he saw anything pretty or odd or interesting, that he thought would please her, it was purchased there and then, to be given to her on the first opportunity.  One day he was going through Vigo Street, and noticed in a shop-window a pair of old-fashioned, silver-gilt loving-cups—­those that interclasp; and forthwith he went in and bought them:  “I’ll take those; how much are they” being his way of bargaining.  In the afternoon he carried them down to Sloane Street.

“Here, Nina, I’ve brought you a little present; and I’ll have to show you how to use it, or you would never guess what it is for.”

When he unrolled his pretty gift out of the pink tissue paper, Nina threw up her hands in despair.

“Oh, it is too much of a folly!” she exclaimed.  “Why do you do it, Leo?  What is the use of old silver to me?”

“Well, it’s nice to look at,” said he.  “And it will help to furnish your house when you get married, Nina.”

“Ah, Leo,” said she, “if you would only think about yourself!  It is always to-day, to-morrow, with you:  never the coming years—­”

“Yes, I know all about that,” he interposed.  “Now I’m going to show you how these are used.  They’re loving-cups, you know, Nina—­”

“Loving-cups?” she repeated, rather timidly.

“Yes? and I will show you how the ceremony is performed.  Now, will you get me some lemonade, Nina, and a little of the vermouth that I sent to Mrs. Grey?”

She went and got these things for him; and when she returned he poured into one of the tiny goblets about a teaspoonful of the vermouth, filling it up with the lemonade; then he put the other cup on the top of this one, so that they formed a continuous vessel; he shook the contents; then he separated the cups, leaving about half the liquid in each, and one of them he handed to Nina, retaining the other.

“We drink at the same time, Nina—­with any kind of wishes you like.”

She glanced towards him—­and then shyly lowered her eyes—­as she raised the small cup to her lips.  What were her wishes?  Perhaps he did not care to know; perhaps she would not have cared to tell.

“You see, it is a simple ceremony, Nina,” he said, as he put the little goblet on the table again.  “But at the same time it is very confidential.  I mean, you wouldn’t ask everybody to go through it with you—­it would hardly, for example, be quite circumspect for you to ask any young man you didn’t know very well—­”

“Leo!”

The sound of her voice startled him; there were tears of indignation in it; he looked up and found she had grown suddenly pale.