"Yes--I believe I was. Oh, by the bye, I met Harrington in Paris; I thought he meant to stay at home." "He often goes abroad," said Mrs. Wyndham indifferently. "One lump of sugar?" "Two, if you please--no cream--thanks. Does he go to Paris to convert the French, or to glean materials for converting other people?" inquired Mr. Vancouver languidly. "I am sure I cannot tell you," answered the lady, still indifferently. "What do you go to Paris for?" "Principally to renew my acquaintance with civilized institutions and humanizing influences. What does anybody go abroad for?" "You always talk like that when you come home, Mr. Vancouver," said Mrs. Wyndham. "But nevertheless you come back and seem to find Boston bearable. It is not such a bad place after all, is it?" "If it were not for half a dozen people here, I would never come back at all," said Mr. Vancouver. "But then, I am not originally one of you, and I suppose that makes a difference." "And pray, who are the half dozen people who procure us the honor of your presence?" "You are one of them, Mrs. Wyndham," he answered, looking at her. "I am much obliged," she replied, demurely. "Any one else?" "Oh--John Harrington," said Vancouver with a little laugh. "Really?" said Mrs. Wyndham, innocently; "I did not know you were such good friends." Mr. Vancouver sipped his tea in silence for a moment and stared at the fire. "I have a great respect for Harrington," he said at last. "He interests me very much, and I like to meet him." He spoke seriously, as though thoroughly in earnest. The faintest look of amusement came to Mrs. Wyndham's face for a moment. "I am glad of that," she said; "Mr. Harrington is a very good friend of mine. Do you mind lighting those candles? The days are dreadfully short." Pocock Vancouver rose with alacrity and performed the service required. "By the way," said Mrs. Wyndham, watching him, "I have a surprise for you." "Indeed?" "Yes, an immense surprise. Do you remember Sybil Brandon?" "Charlie Brandon's daughter? Very well--saw her at Newport some time ago. Lily-white style--all eyes and hair." "You ought to remember her. You used to rave about her, and you nearly ruined yourself in roses. You will have another chance; she is going to spend the winter with me." "Not really?" ejaculated Mr. Vancouver, in some surprise, as he again sat down upon the sofa. "Yes; you know she is all alone in the world now." "What? Is her mother dead too?" "She died last spring, in Paris. I thought you knew." "No," said Vancouver, thoughtfully. "How awfully sad!" "Poor girl," said Mrs. Wyndham; "I thought it would do her good to be among live people, even if she does not go out." "When is she coming?" There was a show of interest about the question. "She is here now," answered Mrs. Sam. "Dear me!" said Vancouver. "May I have another cup?" His hostess began the usual series of operations necessary to produce a second cup of tea.