“When they don’t bore me. You know it is too much to expect one woman to sit and listen to another’s praises for two or three hours together. That is occasionally my fate; and I must frankly confess that I dislike it extremely. If I were to show the least sign of weariness, I should be looked upon as a monster, for every one ought to enjoy the capitulation of Gwen’s marvelous perfections. Do you know I sometimes quite wish I were her mother; I suppose I should like all this vastly then, especially if they had the tact to refer now and then to my past triumphs, and insinuate that my daughter was just what I must have been at her age. But--you are surely going to stay to luncheon, Colonel Dacre? My husband won’t forgive me if I don’t keep you, and I am sure you would not like to be the cause of our first conjugal difference, would you?” “Nothing would distress me more; but Lord Teignmouth is too just to lay my fault at your door.” “But, really, Colonel Dacre, you must stay. A man without home-ties has no excuse for refusing an invitation of any sort. I look upon bachelors as public property myself. Come,” she added persuasively, “I will make a bargain with you. Stop and lunch with us, and I will tell where I think it probable you may find Lady Gwendolyn--supposing you really wish to see her?” “Would your ladyship mind telling me why you so particularly want me to stay?” said the colonel; led by the countess’ manner to suspect some trick. “Certainly; we are quite alone to-day, and I have private reasons of my own for avoiding a tête-à-tête with my husband. Are you satisfied with my explanation?” Colonel Dacre bowed silently. He was not satisfied, by any means, but it was rather difficult to say so. “Then you will stay?” added Lady Teignmouth, after a minute’s silence. “With pleasure.” A smile, so full of malicious triumph, shone in the countess’ eyes, that if Colonel Dacre had only seen it before, it would have served as a warning to him. But having accepted, he could not retract now, although he was more than ever persuaded that the countess was playing him a trick. This idea was confirmed when, just as he was pocketing the card on which his companion had written the address he wanted, the Handley drag drove up to the door, and emptied its living freight into the hall, which swept on up the wide staircase, laughing and talking. But Lady Teignmouth was equal to the occasion. She looked straight at her guest, without so much as a blush on her cool, pink cheek. “It is the Handley party come to luncheon--how very kind of them. No fear of a matrimonial tête-à-tête now.” “Then I am not wanted any longer, Lady Teignmouth?” “On the contrary, you are wanted more than ever. You know how difficult Clara Handley is to amuse.” “I am afraid I can’t be facetious to order, Lady Teignmouth.”