‘I know I’m an awful Goth,’ she would observe confidentially to Nora. ‘But I can’t speak a word of French, and I want this poor prince, who can hardly speak a word of English, to feel at home with us, so I “butter” him up as well as I know how. You see, Lady Ilfracombe, I wasn’t born to the purple. My father was a poor clergyman--ah, you may stare, but it is an accredited fact that clergymen’s children are always the worst--I have three brothers, the greatest scamps you ever knew. They ride like devils and they swear like jockeys; and, if you put them into a drawing-room, they don’t know what on earth to do with their arms and legs, but not one of them would tell a lie or do a dishonourable action to save his life. No more would I. I am quite aware that I’m not fit to be a baronet’s wife, but my old man chose me, and so I do the best I can. And between you and me and the post,’ continued Lady Bowmant, laughing, ‘I think, considering how I was brought up, that I manage very well. The people down at our place thought I should eat peas with my knife, or something pretty of that sort, the first time I went out to a decent dinner, but I didn’t, and here I am, you see, with a real prince for my guest, to say nothing of you and Lord Ilfracombe. Oh, I’m afraid to tell you how much I admire your husband, for fear that you should think I want to “mash” him; but he really is _too_ handsome for anything. I do so love fair men. I told Sir Archibald yesterday, that if the earl had not been married, I couldn’t have resisted a flirtation with him.’ ‘Have one now,’ cried Nora merrily. ‘Don’t mind me. It is quite the fashion for married men to flirt now-a-days; and a lady in town told me once that she should feel quite hurt if the women did not consider her husband worth pulling caps for.’ ‘Now, you’re just the sort of girl I like,’ said Lady Bowmant admiringly. ‘I suppose it isn’t good manners to call you a “girl,” just as if you were nobody. Still you are younger than I am, so you must forgive me. You love horses, too. I can see you’re regularly plucky by the way you handled my little mare yesterday, and I should love to make you as good a whip as myself. I may say _that_, you know, for my brothers and I rode and drove from little children, and it is the only thing I can do well.’ ‘Except play cards and smoke cigarettes,’ put in Nora slyly.