“Miss Bessie wouldn’t care to go with an Englishman!” Mr. Woodley declared with an asperity doubtless not unnatural in a young man who, dressing in a manner that I have indicated and knowing a great deal, as I have said, about London, saw no reason for drawing these sharp distinctions. He agreed upon a day with Miss Bessie—a day of that same week; while an ingenious mind might perhaps have traced a connexion between the girl’s reference to her lack of social privilege or festal initiation and a question she asked on the morrow as she sat with her sister at luncheon. “Don’t you mean to write to—to any one?” “I wrote this morning to Captain Littledale,” Mrs. Westgate replied. “But Mr. Woodley believes Captain Littledale away in India.” “He said he thought he had heard so; he knows nothing about it.” For a moment Bessie said nothing more; then at last, “And don’t you intend to write to—to Mr. Beaumont?” she inquired. Her sister waited with a look at her. “You mean to Lord Lambeth.” “I said Mr. Beaumont because he was—at Newport—so good a friend of yours.” Mrs. Westgate prolonged the attitude of sisterly truth. “I don’t really care two straws for Mr. Beaumont.” “You were certainly very nice to him.” “I’m very nice to every one,” said Mrs. Westgate simply. Nothing indeed could have been simpler save perhaps the way Bessie smiled back: “To every one but me.” Her sister continued to look at her. “Are you in love with Lord Lambeth?” Our young woman stared a moment, and the question was too unattended with any train even to make her shy. “Not that I know of.” “Because if you are,” Mrs. Westgate went on, “I shall certainly not send for him.” “That proves what I said,” Bessie gaily insisted—“that you’re not really nice to me.” “It would be a poor service, my dear child,” said her sister. “In what sense? There’s nothing _against_ Lord Lambeth that I know of.” Mrs. Westgate seemed to cover much country in a few moments. “You _are_ in love with him then?” Bessie stared again, but this time blushing a little. “Ah, if you’ll not be serious we won’t mention him again.” For some minutes accordingly Lord Lambeth was shrouded in silence, and it was Mrs. Westgate who, at the end of this period, removed the ban. “Of course I shall let him know we’re here. I think he’d be hurt—justly enough—if we should go away without seeing him. It’s fair to give him a chance to come and thank me for the kindness we showed him. But I don’t want to seem eager.” “Neither do I,” said Bessie very simply. “Though I confess,” her companion added, “that I’m curious to see how he’ll behave.” “He behaved very well at Newport.” “Newport isn’t London. At Newport he could do as he liked; but here it’s another affair. He has to have an eye to consequences.” “If he had more freedom then at Newport,” argued Bessie, “it’s the more to his credit that he behaved well; and if he has to be so careful here it’s possible he’ll behave even better.”