"Because I came to see one who should have nothing to do with that Trinity of Evil either. I came to see you, Lady Maud. I couldn't pass through Babylon without giving you my congratulations. So you are going to be married--" He paused, looking her in the face curiously. "Well! Why don't you say 'at last'? It is what every lady thinks, I'm sure. People have been coming perilously near calling me 'poor Lady Maud' these last two seasons, and now--yes! I am to marry Mr. Wilson--you know him, I think." "Yes, I do know that fortunate man, and, pardon me, Lady Maud, but you and I have been confidential, haven't we? ever since in a _tourbillon_ of white frills and blue sashes you chose to prefer my walnuts to other folks' sweeties at dessert. Now about Eustace. What is to become of him?" The pretty face winced just a little. "Haven't you heard? Eustace is to be married also; indeed, we think of choosing the same day." "Out of bravado?" "Nothing of the kind. Eustace and I have put away--childish things. We have decided to be sensible, and he is marrying Louisa Capper, the American heiress. I like Louisa." "I trust that feeling is shared by Eustace." "How hopelessly old-fashioned you are, Big Bear! I don't believe you will ever learn to shave yourself in tufts, and become a civilized poodle. Of course he likes her. She is really a very nice girl, and then she only has a father. Don't you think the American '_par-par_' is less objectionable as a rule than the '_mar-mar_'? To be serious,--which I should not trouble to be with ninety-nine people out of a hundred,--Eustace and I have seen the error of our ways, and we intend--in fact, I personally expect to be very happy. As I said, Louisa is very--" "Where do you spend the honeymoon?" he interrupted, not being in the least interested in Louisa's part in the business. "Again hopelessly old-fashioned! There is but one place, nowadays, in which to spend a honeymoon,--Paris. It is so full of distractions. Then Mr. Wilson has taken a grouse moor near the North Pole; Eustace is to come there in his new yacht, and we are to have a real good time; as Louisa--" "Near the North Pole? Didn't know grouse grew there." "Well, it is not very far from it. I forget the name,--but see! there is Eustace behind old Lady Brecknock's feathers. He will remember." A very handsome dark man in the stream saw her signal and drifted sideways to shelter. "Charity cometh," he began. "Please not. Mr. Lockhart has patented it already; besides, I want you to tell me the name of that place in the Hebrides. Roederay! Yes, of course! I remember now that it put me in mind of dry champagne. By the way, you used to paint that coast once, Mr. Lockhart; do you by chance know Roederay?" What is called a flicker of expression crossed her hearer's face. It is a poor description for the absolute blank which a chance word brings to some imaginative people by summoning them from the present into the past.