“We’re not announcing the engagement for several days,” she said. “That’s good. You don’t mind my saying--you know we’ve agreed to be friends--but I think you--your father ought to make careful inquiry about him. I’m sure everything’s all right, but--it’s prudent.” Elsie smiled. “Oh, we have made inquiries,” she said. “Besides, anyone can see what sort of man he is--anyone but a prejudiced Englishman.” “I don’t deny prejudice. Is it surprising?” And he gave her a long look that might have meant anything or nothing. “But--one can’t be too careful about foreigners.” “Foreigners!” Elsie laughed with good-humoured mockery. “And what are _you_?” “Why, an Englishman. We don’t count as foreigners here.” “No--but as--as”--Elsie had “poor relations” on the tip of her tactless tongue, but she caught it and changed it to “step-brothers.” And she went on, “Which is much more suspicious.” Frothingham found encouragement in her willingness to discuss her fiancé with him--it showed plainly how foreign she felt to Rontivogli, how friendly to him. A few afternoons later--it was the day after the dinner at which her engagement was formally announced--she went with Frothingham to call on “Madame Almansa” in her surroundings of Spartan simplicity. They found Ysobel and Boughton there also, and when Ysobel took Frothingham and Boughton into the small library adjoining the smaller drawing room to look at some old prints “Sue” had brought with her from Spain, Elsie talked with “Sue” of the engagement. Madame Almansa was chary of congratulations, full of cautionings and doubts. “I don’t wish to cast a shadow on your happiness, dear--for you _are_ happy, aren’t you?” “Indeed I am,” replied Elsie convincingly--Rontivogli was an ideal lover; he could even sing his mad passion in a voice that was well-trained and thrilling. “But--you know my sad experience.” Madame Almansa sighed like Medea thinking on the treachery of Jason. Her glance fell upon the engagement ring. She took Elsie’s hand. “How beautiful!” she exclaimed. “I love emeralds and that is a magnificent one. And only a tiny flaw.” Elsie coloured with annoyance. “I think you are mistaken,” she said. “It’s a perfect stone.” “Certainly it is perfect, dear,” replied Madame Almansa in her superior, informative tone. “Perfect for an emerald. But, you know, there are no emeralds of size anywhere in the world that haven’t flaws. At least, I never heard of one. Emeralds are valuable in spite of their flaws.” Elsie coloured again, this time with annoyance at having exposed her ignorance.