“I knew I should find you here,” said she, stealing noiselessly to his side, as, leaning over the terrace, he stood deep in thought. “Give me a cigar.” He took the case slowly from his pocket, and held it towards her in silence. “How vastly polite! Choose one for me, sir,” said she, pettishly. “They 're all alike,” said he, carelessly, as he drew one from the number and offered it. “And now a light,” said she, “for I see yours has gone out, without your knowing it. Pray do mind what you 're doing; you've let the match fall on my foot. Look there!” And he did look, and saw the prettiest foot and roundest ankle that ever Parisian coquetry had done its uttermost to grace; but he only smiled half languidly, and said, “There's no mischief done--to either of us!” the last words being muttered to himself. Her sharp ears, however, had caught them; and had he looked at her then, he would have seen her face a deep crimson. “Is the play over? Have they left the billiard-room?” asked he. “Of course it is over,” said she, mockingly. “Sportsmen rarely linger in the preserves where there is no game.” “What do you think of that same Mr. O'Shea? You rarely mistake people. Tell me frankly your opinion of him,” said he, abruptly. “He plays billiards far better than _you_,” said she, dryly. “I 'm not talking of his play, I 'm asking what you think of him.” “He's your master at whist, écarté, and piquet. I _think_ he's a better pistol shot; and he says he rides better.” “I defy him. He's a boastful, conceited fellow. Take his own account, and you 'll not find his equal anywhere. But still, all this is no answer to my question.” “Yes, but it is, though. When a man possesses a very wide range of small accomplishments in a high degree of perfection, I always take it for granted that he lives by them.” “Just what I thought,--exactly what I suspected,” broke he in, angrily. “I don't know how we ever came to admit him here, as we have. That passion May has for opening the doors to every one has done it all.” “If people will have a menagerie, they must make up their mind to meet troublesome animals now and then,” said she, dryly. “And then,” resumed he, “the absurdity is, if I say one word, the reply is, 'Oh, you are so jealous!'” “Naturally enough!” was the cool remark. “Naturally enough! And why naturally enough? Is it of such fellows as Layton or O'Shea I should think of being jealous?” “I think you might,” said she, gravely. “They are, each of them, very eager to succeed in that about which you show yourself sufficiently indifferent; and although May is certainly bound by the terms of her father's will, there are conditions by which she can purchase her freedom.” “Purchase her freedom! And is that the way she regards her position?” cried he, trembling with agitation.