|Sir Henry Wilberforce sat sipping his morning coffee in his most leisurely fashion by the table in his own private salon at the Hôtel de l'Allemagne in Rome. 'Capital man, this fellow Churchill,' he said to himself approvingly, as he saw Colin close the door noiselessly behind him! 'By far the best person for the place I've ever had since that fool Simpson went off so suddenly and got married, confound him. He's so quiet and unobtrusive in all his movements, and he talks so well, and has such a respectable accent and manner. Now Dobbs's accent was quite enough to drive a man wild. I always wanted to throw a boot at him--indeed I've done it more than once--he was so utterly unendurable. This fellow, on the other hand, talks really just like a gentleman; in fact, the only thing I've got to say against him, so far (there's always something or other turning up in the long run), the only thing I've got to say against him yet, is that he's positively a deuced sight _too_ gentlemanly and nice-looking and well-mannered altogether. A servant oughtn't to be _too_ well-mannered. Why, that old Mrs. Cregoe, with the obvious wig and the powdered face, who sits at the table d'hote nearly opposite me, actually went up and spoke to him in the passage yesterday, taking him for one of the visitors! Awkward, exceedingly awkward, when people mistake your man for your nephew, as she did! But otherwise, the fellow's really a capital servant. He--well, what the dickens do _you_ want now, I wonder?' 'A signorina below wishes to speak with you, excellency,' the Italian servant put in, bowing. 'A signorina! What the deuce! Did she give her card, Agostino?' 'The signorina said you would not know her, signor. Shall I introduce her? Ah! here she is.' Sir Henry rose and made a slight stiff inclination, as who should say: 'Now what the devil can _you_ want with me, I wonder?' Gwen, nothing abashed, laid down her card upon the table, which Sir Henry then and there took up and looked at narrowly, putting on his eyeglass for the purpose. 'What an ill-mannered surly old bear,' Gwen thought to herself; 'and what an absurd thing that that delightful Mr. Churchill should have to go as the old wretch's valet. I shall take care to put a stop to that arrangement, anyhow.' 'Well,' Sir Henry said, glancing suspiciously from the card to Gwen 'May I ask--ur--to what I owe the honour of this visit?'