“I do so very rarely, my dear. I think Mining Shares are better, or Guatemala State Bonds. I realised very handsomely indeed upon them two years ago. To be sure it was Dunn that gave me the hint: he dined with us at the Hôtel de Windsor, and I asked him to pay a small sum for me to Hore's people, and when I counted the money out to him, he said, 'Why not buy in some of those Guanaxualo shares; they'll be up to--' I forget what he said--'before a month. Let Storr wait, and you'll pay him in full.' And he was quite right, aas I told you. I realised about eight hundred pounds on my venture.” “If Glaucus had won, my Lady--” “Don't tell me what I should have gained,” broke she in. “It only provokes one the more, and above all, Spicer, no more information, I detest 'information.' And now, what was it I had to say to you; really _your_ memory would seem to be failing you completely. What could it be?” “It couldn't be that roan filly----” “Of course it couldn't. I really must endeavour to persuade you that my thoughts occasionally stray beyond the stable. By the way, you sold those grey carriage-horses for nothing. You always told me they were the handsomest pair in London, and yet you say I'm exceedingly lucky to get one hundred and eighty pounds for them.” “You forget, my Lady, that Bloomfield was a roarer----” “Well, you really are in a tormenting mood this morning, Spicer. Just bethink you, now, if there's anything more you have to say, disagreeable and unpleasant, and say it at once; you have made lady Grace quite ill----” “No, only tired!” sighed her friend, with a melancholy smile. “Now I remember,” cried Lady Lackington, “it was about that house at Florence. I don't think we shall pass any time there, but in case we should, I should like that Zapponi palace, with the large terrace on the Arno, and there must be no one on the ground-floor, mind that; and I'll not give more than I gave formerly--perhaps not so much. But, above all, remember, that if we decide to go on to Rome, that I'm not bound to it in the least, and he must new-carpet that large drawing-room, and I must have the little boudoir hung in blue, with muslin over it, not pink. Pink is odious, except in a dressing-room. You will yourself look to the stables; they require considerable alteration, and there's something about the dining-room--what was it?--Lord Lackington will remember it. But perhaps I have given you as many directions as your head will bear.” “I almost think so too, my Lady,” muttered he, with a half-dogged look. “And be sure, Spicer, that we have that cook--Antoine--if we should want him. Don't let him take a place till we decide where we shall stop.” “You are aware that he insists on a hundred and fifty francs a month, and his wine.”