A lady was standing by the side of the peer, the same he had seen in the theatre. Although dressed entirely in black, her appearance was by no means sombre, for her corsage, neck, and arms blazed with diamonds; the same jewels gleaming from amongst the unnatural brightness of her hair. Tall and erect, she towered above Herbert with an expression of calm triumph on her face; then, as Lord Bexley introduced him, held out her hand. “I think we have met before,” she said with her peculiarly crisp accent, half French, half Scotch. “Perhaps Mr. Karne does not remember? It was in the Quartier Latin a few years ago.” Herbert grasped the back of the chair; the whole room seemed to spin. “Yes, I remember,” he answered thickly. “It would be impossible to forget----” The lady prepared to take her place on his left. “How charming of you to say so,” she said, as she sat down. “We shall be able to talk over old times. To recall pleasant reminiscences is quite a favourite pastime of mine.” It was a merry little supper-party. Guy Haviland kept the table going with his clever wit; he was a past-master in the art of entertaining. Although the evening had been a trying one, Celia did not seem to be fatigued. She enjoyed being made much of--what girl does not?--and her face glowed with happy excitement as she responded to the congratulations of her admirers. Her brother felt like the death’s-head at the feast. Had Celia been less excited, she could not have failed to notice his unwonted moodiness. Mrs. Potter Wemyss made several efforts to sustain a conversation, but finally despairing of eliciting any but monosyllabic answers, left him to himself. His brain was in a whirl; he could not eat, nor could he speak. All he could do was to stare straight in front of him and marvel at the irony of fate. He had not caught the name of the woman to whom he had been reintroduced; he did not know in what guise she posed or how she came to be an honoured guest at Haviland’s table. It was enough for him that she was there; and being there, claimed recognition. She confined her conversation principally to her partner, with whom she seemed to be on terms of intimacy. Several times, however, she turned towards the artist with a “Do you remember such and such a thing in Paris?” or, “We had delightful times in those old student-days, didn’t we, Mr. Karne?”