“You are very kind,” replied Mrs. Gower with a slight smile. “I think I may say, with Porthos, that my mountains are very fine--‘mon air est très-beau,’ you know.” “Tell me, Mrs. Gower,” said Arthur, “who is the lady talking with the man I do not know; the dark man, with broad shoulders?” “Don’t you know him? That is Lionel Derwent, the great English traveller--writer--soldier--socialist--what shall I say? And she is Mrs. Wilton Hay. You must indeed know her, for you are to take her in to dinner. Shall I introduce you?” Mrs. Hay was one of those apparent and obvious beauties of whom all young men are rather afraid. How could his poor attentions content so experienced a shrine? Still, it was in a state of rather pleasurable panic that he went up to her, was presented, and made his due obeisance. Mrs. Hay did not snub him; her mission was to fascinate; and from this and other points about her, Arthur divined that she was English. English beauties are less coy than ours, and more eager to please: all professional manners must be equable. And even Mrs. Flossie Gower’s photographs were not sold on Broadway; though perhaps she sighed for that distinction. “I am told I am to have the pleasure of taking you in to dinner,” said Arthur. Mrs. Hay had dazzled him a little, and he could think of nothing better to say. “What a pity you had to be told!” laughed she. “It would be so much nicer if one could choose partners, you know. It’s almost as bad as marriage, isn’t it? All the spontaneity of the companionship is destroyed; and you haven’t any escape--at least, until after dinner.” Now, this was a clever device of the siren by which she bound Arthur to her band of adorers for the whole evening. He was nothing loath. “Marriage!” he answered vaguely. He started to tell her she would rob the grave of its terrors, let alone matrimony; but it seemed rather sudden. So he laughed; and swore to himself as he felt that he had laughed sillily. Was he such a country-boy as to be afraid of this woman because she was handsome and he saw it? Dinner was announced; so he offered her his arm and said nothing until they were seated. Then they both looked around; and it was the occasion for those whispered confidences about the general _coup d’œil_ and the appearance of their fellow-creatures which form so quickly the little bonds of mutual likes and dislikes.