"You explained that before." "Did I? Yes, of course. Well, she is a beauty." "Ah! The same term was applied to me once and by a man who said that he would love me for ever." "I don't believe I was ever so crude," retorted Askew, bluntly; "you don't tell a lady that she is a beauty, though you might say it to a shopgirl." "Really! I don't know any people of that class. You do, apparently." The young man grew red and wriggled like a speared eel, thinking how very like a woman she was. She did not want him, and she did want him; she told him to go, and wished him to stop; she pardoned his fickleness, yet kept it in mind. "Ah, you bundle of contradictions!" "Why not say a woman? One word explains your three." "I like to be verbose," said Askew, sulkily. "You always are--first about me, and then about this ship thing. I suppose the Fajardo woman will be the next." "Don't speak of her like that." "Why not? She is my rival. I should be more than mortal if I forgave her, and less than a woman if I did not say nasty things about her." "Say them about me, then." "I have been doing my best, and really, you take a ragging very well. There, poor boy"--she patted his cheek--"I shan't tease you any more. When do you sail?" "In three weeks." "For Buenos Ayres?" "Of course." "Oh true and eager lover! Dine with me next Thursday, and we can talk about her." "You'll be nasty." "About the ship? Oh, no!" "I thought you meant Lola." "Perhaps I did; both ship and woman are 'hers,' you know. Next Thursday?" "I shall be delighted." "You look it. Do try and conceal your emotions better." Askew laughed, and took up his hat. She was more like a mosquito than a human being, and he made for the door, weary of being stung. "I would rather be your friend than your husband, Lady Jim," he said coolly. "What a compliment, seeing what husbands are! I ought to know." "Oh, pardon me--I forgot," he stuttered, much confused. She shook her head at him gravely. "What a child in arms you are!" To this last piece of impertinence Askew would have replied rather sharply, thereby proving the truth of her remark, but that the door was blocked by a tall lean man. "M. Aksakoff!" announced the footman, behind the newcomer. "Good-day, Lady James. Good-day, M. Aksakoff, and good-bye." Leah, when alone with the diplomatist, felt her heart leap at the solemnity of his looks. She fancied that he might have come to tell her of the doctor's escape. In reality, Aksakoff was wondering how he could pay her two thousand pounds without turning the arranged comedy into a drama. Feeling his way, he allowed her the first word. "You will stop to luncheon," said Lady Jim, amiably. "I trespass too much on your hospitality, dear madame. You must have had enough of me at our last luncheon in Paris." "Oh, I have forgotten all about Paris"; and she gave him a look which intimated that he also should feign forgetfulness. "Ah, no; but pardon me, I came to inquire about M. Demetrius."