“Play seemed to affect his temper; if he won largely, as was generally the case, he was always in the best of humors; if he lost, he was the very reverse. It was May when we reached England, and my husband took a beautiful house in one of the most fashionable quarters of London. I was presented at Court, introduced into high society, and was altogether exceedingly happy. As yet, I saw no flaw in the jewel I believed to be all my own. A conversation I had with my husband one day puzzled me; we were speaking of beauty in women. “‘Of all things,’ I remarked, ‘beauty seems to me the most highly prized, yet worth the least.’ “He smiled, and there was something so sarcastic, so cynical in the smile that I could not refrain from asking him of what he was thinking. He laughed aloud. “‘The idea had just occurred to me, Juliet, that I would derive some benefit from your beauty.’ “I thought at the time, in the vanity of my love, that he meant the pleasure of looking at me. I thanked him with loving words and kisses. Afterward I understood better what it meant. “For some weeks all went merry as a marriage bell; then it struck me as strange that, although we had numbers of gentlemen constantly calling, our lady visitors were but few. I was vexed also to find that the _récherché_ little dinners and elegant suppers had but one termination--that was play. Neither could I help seeing that my husband did in very truth hold out my society as an inducement for visitors to come. “‘You must hear Lady Pelham sing,’ he would say to one; ‘she has a voice like a nightingale. If you want to study the true art of being eloquent with a fan, spend an evening with Lady Pelham. She makes her fan speak for her, as it might be.’ “‘You enjoy a good passage at arms, a tournament of words--drop in this evening and discuss affairs in general with Lady Pelham.’