Then I kissed Mrs. Torquilin, and she kissed me, and I told her how extremely obliged I was to her, and asked her if she had really considered it; and Mrs. Torquilin said, wasn't it enough that I should be left to 'that woman,' meaning my relation, and that I should come next day to see how we could best arrange matters. 'And while I think of it, child, here is my address,' my friend continued, taking out her card-case, and watching me very carefully, with a little smile about her mouth. I looked at it. I think my embarrassment gratified her a little, for the card read, 'Lady Torquilin, 102 Cadogan Mansions, S.W.' I didn't know what to say. And I had been calling a lady of title 'Mrs.' all this time! Still, I reflected, she would hardly have been so nice to me if I had offended her very much, and if she had been particular about her title she could have mentioned it. 'It seems,' I said, 'that I have been making a mistake. I expected to make mistakes in this country; but I'm sorry I began with you.' 'Nonsense, child!' she returned. 'It was just my little joke--and I made Charlie Mafferton keep it. There's precious little in the handle I assure you--except an extra half-crown in one's bills!' And Lady Torquilin gave me her hand to say good-bye. 'Good-bye,' I said; 'I think handles are nice all the same.' And then--it is an uncomfortable thing to write, but it happened--I thought of something. I was determined to make no more mistakes if asking would prevent it. 'Please tell me,' I said, 'for you see I can't possibly know--am I to call you "your ladyship," or "my lady"?' 'Now don't talk rubbish!' said Lady Torquilin. 'You're to call me by my name. You are too quaint. Be a good child--and don't be late to-morrow.' VIII IF I only had my own house in Portman Street,' Lady Torquilin remarked next day when we were having our tea in her flat, 'I could make you a great deal more comfy. Here we are just a bit cramped--"crowded," as you say in America. But you can't eat your cake and have it too.' 'Which have you done, Lady Torquilin,' I inquired, 'with your cake?' 'Let it,' said my friend--'twenty-five guineas a week, my dear, which is something to a poor woman. Last season it only brought twenty, and cost me a fortune to get it clean again after the pigs who lived in it. For the extra five I have to be thankful to the Duchess.' 'Did you really let it to a Duchess?' I asked, with deep interest. 'How lovely!'