It suddenly occurred to me that she had got on very well without me during the ages. The discovery irritated me. She was not behaving at all as I had expected. This cool, even casual reception certainly was not in keeping with my idea of what it ought to have been. "But Mr. Poopendyke has been awfully kind. He has given me all the news." Poopendyke! Had he been visiting her without my knowledge or--was I about to say consent? "There hasn't been a great deal of news," I said. She dropped a long-stemmed rose and waited for me to pick it up. "Thank you," she said. "Oh, did it prick you?" "Yes," said I flatly. Then we both gave the closest attention to the end of my thumb while I triumphantly squeezed a tiny drop of blood out of it. I sucked it. The incident was closed. She was no longer interested in the laceration. "Mr. Poopendyke knew how lonely I would be. He telephoned twice a day." I thought I detected a slight note of pique in her voice. But it was so slight that it was hardly worth while to exult. "So you thought I had deserted you," I said, and was a little surprised at the gruffness in my voice. "The violets appeased me," she said, with a smile. For the first time I noticed that she was wearing a large bunch of them. "You will be bankrupt, Mr. Smart, if you keep on buying roses and violets and orchids for me." So the roses were mine also! I shot a swift glance at the mantelpiece, irresistibly moved by some mysterious force. There were two bowls of orchids there. I couldn't help thinking of the meddling, over-zealous geni that served the hero of Anstey's "Brass Bottle" tale. He was being outdone by my efficacious secretary. "But they are lovely," she cried, noting the expression in my face and misconstruing it. "You are an angel." That was the last straw. "I am nothing of the sort," I exclaimed, very hot and uncomfortable. "You _are_," was her retort. "There! Isn't it a lovely centre-piece? Now, you must come and see Rosemary. She adores the new elephant you sent to her." "Ele--" I began, blinking my eyes. "Oh--oh, yes, yes. Ha, ha! the elephant." Good Heavens, had that idiotic Poopendyke started a menagerie in my castle? I was vastly relieved to find that the elephant was made of felt and not too large to keep Rosemary from wielding it skilfully in an assault upon the hapless Jinko. She had it firmly gripped by the proboscis, and she was shrieking with delight. Jinko was barking in vain-glorious defence. The racket was terrible. The Countess succeeded in quelling the disturbance, and Rosemary ran up to kiss me. Jinko, who disliked me because I looked like the Count, also ran up but his object was to bite me. I made up my mind, there and then that if I should ever, by any chance, fall in love with his mistress I would inaugurate the courting period by slaying Jinko.