“I don’t want my girls talked about, thank you, Ewen!” His wife gave an angry dig to the word “my.” “Everybody says what a nice ladylike girl Alice is. But Nora often gives me a deal of trouble—and if she takes to imitating Connie, and wanting to go about without a chaperon, I don’t know what I shall do. My dear Ewen, do you know what I discovered last night?” Mrs. Hooper rose and stood over her husband impressively. “Well—what?” “You remember Connie went to bed early. Well, when I came up, and passed her door, I noticed something—somebody in that room was—smoking! I could not be mistaken. And this morning I questioned the housemaid. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, ‘her ladyship smoked two cigarettes last night, and Mrs. Tinkler’—that’s the maid—‘says she always smokes two before she goes to bed.’ Then I spoke to Tinkler—whose manner to me, I consider, is not at all what it should be—and she said that Connie smoked three cigarettes a day always—that Lady Risborough smoked—that all the ladies in Rome smoked—that Connie began it before her mother died—and her mother didn’t mind—” “Well then, my dear, you needn’t mind,” exclaimed Dr. Hooper. “I always thought Ella Risborough went to pieces—rather—in that dreadful foreign life,” said Mrs. Hooper firmly. “Everybody does—you can’t help it.” “I don’t know what you mean by going ‘to pieces,’” said Ewen Hooper warmly. “I only know that when they came here ten years ago, I thought her one of the most attractive—one of the most charming women I had ever seen.”