“Mrs. Neville Williams a vendor of programmes!” exclaimed the peer with mock astonishment. “I am indeed sorry that it should have come to this!” “One can do anything for such a good cause,” she answered sententiously; and then, with a coquettish glance from her dark eyes, “Of course I cannot hope to compete with the pretty actresses who are my colleagues, but will you buy a programme, Lord Bexley?” She spoke with a slightly foreign accent, and had a peculiar way of pronouncing her “r’s.” There was a suggestion of artificiality about her voice, as there was also about the brilliancy of her eyes, the bloom of her complexion, and the whiteness of her teeth. Bexley did not consider her beautiful, for what good points she possessed were due to art--the art of her French maid; but he admired her personality, albeit there was some thing about it which repelled him. “Where have you been hiding yourself all the season?” he asked, when he had allowed her to sell him a programme for sixpence and keep the change out of a sovereign. “I really believe this is the first time I have seen you since we met in Cairo last winter.” “Yes, I have been abroad for some time,” she replied, trying to cool herself with a small ivory fan. “I was in retreat at a convent near Cimiez for nearly three months, and since then I have been to Paris and Trouville. You see, the poor Duke’s death upset me terribly--we were to have been married a fortnight later, you know--and so I thought that a few months spent right away from society would prove beneficial to my health. My nerves seemed quite unstrung.” “Yes, I understand,” said Bexley, sympathetically. “It was very sad about poor Wallingcourt’s death. I never had the slightest idea that he was consumptive. Do you feel better after your period of seclusion?” “Oh yes. It was so quiet and restful at the convent. The very atmosphere breathed unworldliness and sanctity. I read no books and attended to no correspondence whilst I was there, but, in company with the Sisters, passed my time in prayer and meditation. It was quite a delightful change.” Lord Bexley turned away his face to hide a smile. The idea of Mrs. Neville Williams as a kind of temporary nun tickled him immensely. He was far more inclined to think that her absence from society had been in order to undergo a treatment of rejuvenescence at the hands of a Parisian beauty doctor. However, it would never do to doubt the word of a lady. “It must indeed have been delightful,” he said, glancing at her again, and noting the unwonted demureness of her countenance. “But I am glad that they have allowed you to return to the world. By-the-by, your niece, Miss Gladys Milnes, is here. She is up on a visit to my sister. Won’t you come and speak to her?”