She looked dazzling in her mother’s pearls and a silver spangled gown. Almost like some stately young sovereign, enthroned among her subjects. And yet it was the same little face that had haunted him all these years--the same that had been pressed against the window-pane one April night, in passionate farewell. “May I have the pleasure of a dance?” he asked, after a moment’s hesitation. “Thank you, I don’t dance,” she answered inarticulately, as she pressed on the knobs of the arm-chair with trembling hands. “Then may we sit it out?” She bowed, without raising her eyes. “What a queer, nervous sort of girl!” thought Mrs. Hampton, as she moved away. To Major Doran it seemed almost incredible. But these delicate patrician features, and the rich, soft brogue, both belonged to Mary Foley. She was curiously reserved, and cold. Had her sudden uprise turned her head? Did Lady Joseline Mulgrave hate to recall the old days, when she was the inferior, and dropped curtseys to _him_? “Lady Joseline,” he said, on a sudden impulse, “may I ask you a question?” “You may if you like,” she answered, almost under her breath. “Do we meet now for the first time? or--have we known one another all our lives. It is for you to say?” “Me to say,” she repeated, raising her eyes to where he stood, humbly awaiting her decision. “Why, to say the truth, and what else?--wasn’t I your mother’s egg-huxter?” “Well, perhaps we need not recall _that_--only--other things?”--and he studied her pale, uplifted face, and her brilliant eyes, with a keen and intimate interest. “Do you know that I’ve always had a presentiment, that we should come across one another some day. Of course I have heard your story.” “Yes,” she answered, with regal equanimity, “I believe it was on the papers.” “I was not as much surprised as other people. You were always different to your surroundings.” “I suppose I was,” she acquiesced. “I never had much heart for work.” “But you had for play. You seem to have left your spirits in Ireland?” As he spoke he took a seat and continued. “It is six years since we met. A good deal of water has run under the bridge----” “Oh, for the Lord’s sake,” she interrupted, with unexpected passion, “will ye not be talking of bridge! I’m fair sick of it!” “I am not alluding to cards, but to events. Many things have happened since we said good-bye to one another.” Did she recall the episode? Yes, for her face flamed. “You remember?” She moved slightly in her regal chair, and made no reply. “Do you?” he urged, with low persistence. “Oh, I’ve a pretty good memory,” she answered at last, her face aglow, as she raised her eyes to his with a glance of proud defiance. “There’s been changes--the death of Mrs. Foley; the break-up at the Corner; some going to America, and some getting married.” “I was told that you were going to be married,” he said. “I?”--and she laughed derisively. “I might be married years ago, if I’d liked.”