She was talking of transatlantic marriages in general, and her own particular. "I'd like everybody to know," she said, "that I married for love. Now do tell me, Bishop, from what you can see at the other end of the table, that you think I am speaking the truth." Lord Wargrave, at that moment in earnest conversation with a dignified-looking dowager, was good-looking enough, in a rather heavy British way, to make the claim not unreasonable, though he was by no means the equal of his wife in that respect. "I can believe that you both fell in love with each other," said the Bishop benignly. "Thank you," said the lady, "I hope you are not being sarcastic. Lots of our girls _do_ marry for the sake of a title, and I won't say that it's not funny to be called My Lady just at first. Still it wears off after a bit, and isn't worth giving up your American citizenship for." "Would you rather Lord Wargrave had been a plain American citizen instead of an Englishman with a title?" asked Ella. "Why, sure! I'm telling you so." "But you do like Englishmen, all the same," suggested the Bishop. "I'm not going to say that I like Englishmen as much as Americans. Nothing will drag that from me, if I never set foot in the States again. But as to that, Wargrave has promised me a trip every two years. I wouldn't have married him without, though you can see that I adore him, and I'm not ashamed of showing it." "Well then, you like Englishmen next best to Americans." "Perhaps I do, though I think Frenchmen are real cute. They've a way with them. With an Englishman you generally have to do more than half yourself. With a Frenchman you've got to be mighty smart to see that you get the chance of doing your half. With an Englishman, when you're once married it's finished, but I should judge that you would have to get busy and keep busy, married to a Frenchman." Ella Carruthers stole a look at Beatrix, who was seated a few places away from her. She had been talking to her neighbour, but now sat with her eyes fixed upon the speaker. Her colour was a little heightened, but it was impossible to tell from her look what she was thinking. Ella hoped for her sake that the conversation would not be continued on that subject, and prepared her wits to divert it. But the next moment something had been said which changed her feeling from one of sympathy with Beatrix to one of sharp alarm on her behalf.