Lady Jane was not in the least disconcerted. She had her double privilege of familiarity with the men whom she liked--her privilege as a woman of high rank, and her privilege as a young widow. She bowed to Mrs. Vanborough, with all the highly-finished politeness of the order to which she belonged. “The lady of the house, I presume?” she said, with a gracious smile. Mrs. Vanborough returned the bow coldly--entered the room first--and then answered, “Yes.” Lady Jane turned to Mr. Vanborough. “Present me!” she said, submitting resignedly to the formalities of the middle classes. Mr. Vanborough obeyed, without looking at his wife, and without mentioning his wife’s name. “Lady Jane Parnell,” he said, passing over the introduction as rapidly as possible. “Let me see you to your carriage,” he added, offering his arm. “I will take care that you have the refusal of the house. You may trust it all to me.” No! Lady Jane was accustomed to leave a favorable impression behind her wherever she went. It was a habit with her to be charming (in widely different ways) to both sexes. The social experience of the upper classes is, in England, an experience of universal welcome. Lady Jane declined to leave until she had thawed the icy reception of the lady of the house. “I must repeat my apologies,” she said to Mrs. Vanborough, “for coming at this inconvenient time. My intrusion appears to have sadly disturbed the two gentlemen. Mr. Vanborough looks as if he wished me a hundred miles away. And as for your husband--” She stopped and glanced toward Mr. Delamayn. “Pardon me for speaking in that familiar way. I have not the pleasure of knowing your husband’s name.” In speechless amazement Mrs. Vanborough’s eyes followed the direction of Lady Jane’s eyes--and rested on the lawyer, personally a total stranger to her. Mr. Delamayn, resolutely waiting his opportunity to speak, seized it once more--and held it this time. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “There is some misapprehension here, for which I am in no way responsible. I am _not_ that lady’s husband.” It was Lady Jane’s turn to be astonished. She looked at the lawyer. Useless! Mr. Delamayn had set himself right--Mr. Delamayn declined to interfere further. He silently took a chair at the other end of the room. Lady Jane addressed Mr. Vanborough. “Whatever the mistake may be,” she said, “you are responsible for it. You certainly told me this lady was your friend’s wife.” “What!!!” cried Mrs. Vanborough--loudly, sternly, incredulously. The inbred pride of the great lady began to appear behind the thin outer veil of politeness that covered it. “I will speak louder if you wish it,” she said. “Mr. Vanborough told me you were that gentleman’s wife.” Mr. Vanborough whispered fiercely to his wife through his clenched teeth. “The whole thing is a mistake. Go into the garden again!”