‘Know her!’ said Mrs. Swinford, with that little continuous laugh which was like the tingling of an electric bell. ‘Indeed, I know her--to my cost.’ ‘Ah! there’s mischief in her, then?’ ‘There are always old sores in a friendship of twenty years. Isn’t that true, mother? But whatever they are, they must be of very old date, and there can be no reason for bringing them forward now.’ Thus Leo, who was evidently very uneasy, and had showed symptoms of rising from the table though his mother had as yet given no sign. ‘Leo,’ said Mrs. Swinford, ‘has fallen under the fascination which a woman of that age often exercises--too old to be dangerous, but old enough to know how to make herself very agreeable.’ ‘Oh, she’s very agreeable,’ said Lord Will; ‘as for fascination, one doesn’t associate it somehow with the name of an aunt, don’t you know.’ ‘That is true, but you see she is not everybody’s aunt. To some people she is----’ ‘I should say to everybody a charming woman. Do you take your coffee downstairs to-night, mother?’ ‘I know what you mean, Leo: but coffee or no coffee, you must understand that I have a great deal to say to Lord Will. It may be now, or it may be later--but I have a great deal to say----’ ‘I need not tell you I am entirely at your disposition, Mrs. Swinford.’ ‘You know,’ said Leo, almost angrily, ‘it is bad for your health to stay up late: and Will wants a glass of wine, or perhaps to knock about the balls a little----’ ‘I hope I don’t look like a fellow to knock about balls--when I have so much better within reach----’ ‘It’s always well,’ said Mrs. Swinford, ‘to know how to turn a compliment. Will you now give me your arm upstairs like a Frenchman, or wait like a Britisher till you have had your glass of wine?’ ‘Perish the glass of wine!’ said Lord Will with a laugh, ‘though I hear ladies say nowadays that they like the British fashion best.’ ‘These are strong-minded ladies, who are, I believe, the fashion, too--whom the men don’t care for, and who, consequently, pretend not to care for the men.’ ‘Well, that’s very flattering to us, at least,’ said Lord Will. He was perhaps a little too much in the movement of his time to accept it as the gospel it has always been supposed to be, and was even a little disposed to laugh in his sleeve at the antiquated charmer who held by that old doctrine. Mrs. Swinford’s air of the ancient seductrice and devourer of men was not a new thing to this experienced youth. ‘It comes to much the same thing,’ said Leo, ‘for the Frenchmen adjourn for their cigarette after they have reconducted the ladies. Come, mother, let him be English for to-night. I have something to say to him, too.’ ‘My son,’ said Mrs. Swinford, with the blandest smile, ‘Lord Will shall choose between us. I am not going to exercise any pressure, or pull against you.’