“If I remember, Donnington is the proper pronunciation, father,” interposed Miralda, very quietly, as if courtesy required the correction--the courtesy that was due to a stranger, however. “I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me, Miralda,” he replied testily. “This gentleman will understand how difficult some English names are to pronounce and will excuse my slip, I am sure.” “Certainly, visconte.” “I am only sorry I do not speak English.” “Donnington is quite easy to pronounce, Affonso,” his wife broke in. He gave a sigh of impatience. “Of course it is, I know that well enough.” “You were speaking of the reason for Mr. Donnington’s visit,” Miralda reminded him demurely; and as she turned to him her eyes swept impassively across my face. As if a stranger’s presence in Lisbon were a legitimate reason for the polite assumption of curiosity. “It is in a way Government business; Mr. Donnington”--he got the name right this time and smiled--“is seeking some concessions in our East African colony and he needs my influence.” “Oh, business in East Africa?” she repeated, with a lift of the eyebrows. “How very interesting;” and with that she turned away and handed her programme to one of the men pestering her for a dance. No words she could have spoken and nothing she could have done would have been so eloquent of her appreciation of my conduct in absenting myself for four months and then coming to Lisbon on business. Once more I wished those infernal concessions at the bottom of the Tagus. “I hope to be of considerable use and you may depend upon my doing my utmost,” said the visconte, self-complacently. “I cannot say how highly I shall value your influence, sir, not only in that but in everything,” I replied, putting an emphasis on the “everything” in the hope that Miralda would understand. But she paid no heed and went on chatting with the man next her. “And how long are you staying, Mr. Donnington?” asked her mother. “Rather a superfluous question that, Maria,” said her husband. “Of course it will depend upon how your business goes, eh, Mr. Donnington?” I saw a chance there and took it. “I am afraid my object will take longer to accomplish than I hoped,” I replied; for Miralda’s benefit again of course. “At any rate you will have time for some pleasure-making, I trust,” said the viscontesse. “Englishmen don’t let pleasure interfere with business, my dear, they are far too strenuous,” replied her husband, who appeared to think he was flattering me and doing me a service by insisting that I could have no possible object beyond business. “I presume that you are only here to-night for the one purpose. The Marquis de Pinsara told me as much.” At that moment a partner came up to claim Miralda for a dance, and as she rose she said: “Mr. Donnington is fortunate in finding so many to help him in his business.” “Wait a moment, Miralda,” exclaimed her father as she was turning away. “Have you kept the dances for Mr. Donnington?”