Great drops of cold sweat stood upon Bartley Bradstone’s forehead as he looked at the handsome, devil-may-care face of the woman who, with her arms akimbo, stood regarding him with a mixture of amusement and contempt, combined with an enjoyment of his discomfiture which was almost tigerish. At last he managed to find his voice, a very weak and feeble one. “This--this is a surprise, Bella,” he said, forcing a sickly smile. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she retorted. “A pleasant surprise, of course. What’s become of the elegant manners you used to sport so freely? Any one would think I was an ogre instead of ‘handsome Bella!’ You see I haven’t forgotten some of your compliments. Yes, it is a surprise for both of us. I thought you were across the sea. That was a clever idea of yours, sending the money every quarter from France. It took me in, it did, indeed! I suppose you thought I should run after you, didn’t you? Run after you!” and she laughed with scorn. “What are you doing down here? Give an account of yourself, Bartley? Have you got such a thing as a cigarette about you? The smell of that cigar has set me off longing for a puff.” He handed her his silver cigar case, and she smiled as she saw how his hand shook. “Here, light it,” she said, with a nonchalant air of command. He lit the cigarette, and handed it to her. “Now, then,” she said, blowing the smoke through her handsome nostrils. “Let’s have a true and particular account of yourself.” “I’m--I’m staying here for a time,” he said, trying to speak in a careless, matter-of-fact tone. “I--I haven’t been quite the thing--France didn’t suit me--and I ran down here for a change. I’m going back almost directly.” She looked at him with charming incredulity. “I don’t believe a word of it,” she said, flicking the ash from her cigarette, and leaning against a tree in an easy attitude, as if she were leaning against the ropes of her trapeze. “I don’t believe you’ve been out of England at all; and what’s more, I don’t care. You may go where you like, and do what you like, for what I care, Bartley.” He drew a breath of relief, and the color came slowly back to his face. “Then--then you didn’t come down here after me?” he said, with a pitiful attempt at a laugh. “I certainly did not,” she retorted, with unaffected scorn. “I came down here”--and her eyes twinkled--“because the air of London didn’t agree with me, and I thought I’d take a change. Come down after you! Why, man, what do I want with you while you pay me my allowance regularly?” “I thought----” he began. “You flattered yourself too much,” she broke in. “And you don’t ask what I’ve been doing?” with a smile. “I--I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” he said, conciliatingly. “A lot you care! As it happens, I have been enjoying myself. I’ve made a hit, and I’m one of the great London favorites, Bartley. What do you think of that, eh? Did you ever hear of Bella-Bella?” He shook his head.