“I suppose that’s because he thinks me too stupid,” was her impatiently scornful reflection. She was half relieved, half sorry when Mrs. Carfax, with a conventional exclamation upon the lateness of the hour, rose to go. “Good-bye,” she said, holding out her hand to her companion. She hesitated, and then, shyness making the words a little brusque-- “If you are ever here again, I hope Miss Page will bring you to see us,” she added. “_Enchanté_, madame!” he returned with his easy bow and smile. “Delightful fellow that!” exclaimed Dr. Dakin, as he stepped into the motor-car after his wife. He spoke with an animation unusual to him. “It’s been a nice evening, hasn’t it, Madge?” “Very,” she returned shortly, pulling the rug round her, and relapsing into silence. She was thinking of the Frenchman’s smile, and of his voice. He had beautiful hands, she remembered. Her husband looked at her and sighed a little. He would liked to have discussed the party, but Madge was in one of her moods, and he knew that the attempt would be useless. * * * * * “There’s an air of unreality about foreigners,” remarked Mr. Carfax, pulling up the window with a jerk, as the hired brougham turned out of the drive. “Theatrical, rather--the way that fellow talked, wasn’t it?” “Quite absurd,” agreed his wife. “I didn’t listen. Miss Page is generally more interesting than she was to-night.” “Yes. Women do better as a rule, to keep to the subjects that suit them,” announced the Vicar. “Not that Miss Page isn’t a clever woman, I believe. At least, Dakin says so, and _he_ ought to know.” “I suppose this Monsieur--what’s his name--was one of the friends she made when she was travelling?” “I suppose so. She was away long enough to make shoals of them.” “You didn’t know her, George, did you, when you were a young man?” The Vicar shook his head. “I may have seen her once or twice when she was old Mrs. Burbage’s companion. I had just left college then, and was at my first curacy in Nottingham--just before we were married, you know. I came back to the Vicarage once or twice in those days to see the old Dad, and I suppose she must have been at Fairholme Court then. But I don’t remember her. She was nurse and general factotum to the old lady. Mrs. Burbage was an eccentric woman, you know; rather dotty towards the end, I believe. I can imagine that poor Miss Page hadn’t much of a life with her.” “And then directly she had the place left to her, she shut it up and went away?” “Yes. That must be nearly twenty years ago. How time flies!” “I remember we came to the Vicarage just after she had gone, when Sylvia was a baby; the year after your father died. It was a nine-days’ wonder then. And I remember the people at The Chase saying what a piece of luck it was for such a dowdy quiet woman to come into a fortune.” “They can’t say that now!” observed the Vicar.