Leycester sprang up the steps and stood beside Lenore. It was the first time she had seen him that morning, and she inclined her head and held out her hand with a smile. He took her hand; it was warm and soft, his own was still cold from his bath, and she opened her eyes widely. "Your hand is quite cold," she said, then she touched his sleeve, "and you are wet. Where have you been?" Leycester laughed carelessly. "I have met with a slight accident, and gained a pleasant bath." "An accident?" she repeated, not curiously, but with calm, serene interest. "Yes," he said, shortly, "a young friend of mine fell into the river, and I joined company, just for company's sake." "I understand," she said with a smile, "you went in to save him." "Well, that's putting rather a fine point to it," he said, smilingly. "But it's true. May one ask his name?" Leycester flicked a piece of moss from the stone coping and hesitated for a moment: "His name is Frank," he said; "Frank Etheridge." Lady Lenore nodded. "A pretty name; I don't remember it. I hope he is grateful." "I hope so," said Leycester. "I am sure he is more grateful than the occasion merits." The old countess looked round at him. "What is it you say?" she said. "You have been in the river after some boy, and you stand there lounging about in your wet clothes? Well, the lad ought to be grateful, for though you will not catch your death, you will in all probability catch a chronic influenza cold, and that's worse than death; it's life with a pocket-handkerchief to your nose. Go and change your things at once." "I think I had better, after that fearful prognostication," said Leycester, with a smile, and he sauntered off. "Etheridge," said Lady Longford, "that is the name of that pretty girl with the dark eyes who dined here the other night." "Yes," said Lenore, indifferently, for the old countess looked at her; she knew that the indifference was assumed. "If Leycester doesn't take care, he will find himself in danger with those dark eyes. Girls are apt to be grateful toward men who rescue their cousins from a watery grave." Lady Lenore shifted her sunshade and smiled serenely. "No doubt she is very grateful. Why should she not be? Do you think Lord Leycester is in danger? I do not." And she strolled away. The old lady glanced at Lord Charles. "That is a wonderful girl, Charles," she said, with earnest admiration. "What, Lenore?" he said. "Rather. Just found it out, Lady Longford?" "No, Mr. Impertinence. I have known it all along; but she astonishes me afresh every day. What a great name she would have won on the stage. But she will do better as Lady Wyndward." Lord Charles shook his head, and whistled softly. "Rather premature that, isn't it?" he said. "Leycester doesn't seem very keen in that quarter, does he?" Lady Longford smiled at him and showed her teeth.