"To Lady Ware," he said, gravely and pleasantly, as he drank. Daisy--at least that twin half of her who companioned the baronet at the table--seemed to know exactly what to do. She lifted her glass and sipped, tipping her little-finger up. Then her two halves merged into one a moment, and the whole Daisy said: "Who's Lady Ware?" Her companion, whose name she did not yet know, looked across at her with a kind of pondering exaltation--a deep but self-contained joy. "She's one who has been a long time arriving," he said, "a long, long time, my dear. But she's here at last." "You're an Englishman, aren't you?" Daisy plumped, naively. "Guilty, on all counts," Sir William smiled, "but I think we shall manage to live that down, shan't we. I'm sure we can do so, if we both try hard, and try together." "Well--Englishmen are gentlemen, anyway," Daisy conceded, drinking some more water. "I'd trust myself anywhere with an Englishman." "Do you know, now," Sir William reached out a strong white hand and put it over hers, looking right at her in a pleased and virile way, "I am infinitely rejoiced to hear you say that--infinitely rejoiced. The way you said it, too! My word!" His air, though Daisy at the moment could not see it that way, was the air of a man who has acquired a new pet; and, planning to train it, is surprised to find that it knows some tricks already. "What's your name?" said Daisy. Sir William felt ready to hug himself every time this conjugal find of his spoke. He could have danced every time she changed expression. Absolutely novel! New clay to the potter's hand! "I am called Ware," he said, "so," Sir William had a momentary lapse, common both to more and to less intelligent men than he, "you will have to learn to be-Ware, you see." The waiter of the plaster-cast face, holding on high a tray which he brought down with a deft flourish to the level of the table, slipped in like a whisper. There was a noiseless flicker of fingers and napery and silver--and he had vanished through the curtains again. There was left a neatly-laid table, on which Daisy saw a silver dish containing oranges, bananas, grapes and new luscious dates; a plate of cake cut thin; a coffee-pot steaming aromatically; and a side-dish with toothsome little cubes of cheese. Ware, watching with a delight that increased each moment, saw Daisy, with a womanly and homelike little motion, reach out quite as a matter of course, pull the coffee-pot toward her, set the two cups in their saucers, with spoons beside, and look around for the cream. "Cafe noir," said Sir William; "let's try it black, this time. If you don't like it, we'll have in some cream." Daisy Nixon filled the cups, passed one to her companion, and, gingerly lifting to her lips the one she had retained, tasted it. "Ugh! it's like medicine," she said; "tell the man to bring some cre-eam, quick."