A stylish vehicle, much favoured in those days by young fellows with little brains and less prudence, something between a brake and a dandy-horse, with two stylish men in it, especially in the extent of their moustaches, was driving down Regent Street. He who held the reins, Captain Stanley, was attending to some object at a distance rather than to his horse: his head was raised, his eyes were intently fixed far before him. A cab whirled suddenly round the corner of Argyle Place: Captain Stanley was too much absorbed to avoid it, and the two vehicles came into contact with each other. No damage was done. All that came of it was a wordy war: for the cabman's abuse was unlimited, and Captain Stanley retorted in angry explosion. "Is that the way you generally drive in London?" quietly asked his companion, as they went on again. "An insolent reptile! he shall smart for it. I'll have him before the magistrate at Marlborough Street." "Don't call me as a witness, then. It was your fault. You got into the fellow's way." "I didn't get into his way." "At any rate, you didn't get out of it, which amounts to the same thing. I ask if that is your usual mode of driving?" "What if it is?" "It is a careless one. The next time you offer me a seat, Stanley, I shall propose to take the reins." "I thought I saw her carriage before us," explained Captain Stanley, in a more conciliatory tone, as he began to recover his good-humour. "It made me blind to everything else, Winchester." "Who is 'her'?" demanded Lord Winchester, who had just returned from a prolonged sojourn on the Continent. "The loveliest woman, Winchester. I can tell you you have a treat in store: you will say it when you get introduced to her. I couldn't exist," added the captain, twirling his moustache, "without a daily sight of that angel." The viscount smiled. He knew, of old, Captain Stanley's propensity for going into heroics over "angels:" he did so himself upon occasion. "Mrs. Stanley to be?" asked he, indifferently, by way of saying something. "No such luck. She's married. And so am I." "Pardon, Stanley; I forgot it. When a fellow marries over in India, the fact is apt to slip out of one's memory." "By Jove here she comes! She has turned back again. The green carriage and dark livery. I knew I saw it. Isn't she----" "Take care of your horse," interrupted Lord Winchester; "here's another cab." "Hang the cabs! Look at her." An open barouche was approaching. One lady sat within it. Lord Winchester caught sight of an exquisite toilette, and then, the point-lace parasol being slightly moved, of an exquisite face. A young face, looking younger, perhaps, than it really was; clearly cut, delicate features; cheeks of a rich damask, brown glossy hair, and soft dark eyes of wonderful brightness.