"What part of the world is it in?--Europe, Asia, Africa, America, or the Polynesian Islands?" "It is three miles from Naullan, if you are any the wiser." "Naullan! Naullan!" he repeats, as if trying to overtake a recollection that eludes him. "Of course it does: why I was _at_ Naullan once." "Were you?" (eagerly.) "When?" "Two years ago; no, three. I was staying in the neighbourhood with some people for fishing. No doubt you know them--the Fitz-Maurices?" Esther's countenance falls a little. "I--I--have heard of them," she says, uncertainly. "Why, they must be neighbours of yours." "They are rather beyond a drive, I think," she replies, doubtfully. "If you are three miles from Naullan, and they are only four, I don't see how that can be." She does not answer for a moment, but only furls and unfurls her fan uneasily; then, looking up with a sudden, honest impulse, speaks, colouring up to the eyes the while. "Why should I be ashamed of what there is no reason to be ashamed of? They _are_ within calling distance, and I do know them in a way; that is to say, Lady Fitz-Maurice bows to me whenever she recollects that she knows me; but, you see, they are great people, and we are small ones." He looks thoroughly annoyed. The idea that the woman of his choice is by her own confession not _exactly_ on his own level, grates upon his pride. "Nonsense!" he says, brusquely, "one gentleman is as good as another, all the world over; and it must be the same with ladies." "St. John, you are wanted to make up a rubber," interrupts Constance, sweeping up to them, resplendent but severe, in green satin and seaweed, like a nineteenth century Nereid, if such an anachronism could exist. "Am I?" looking rather sulky, and not offering to move. "We have got one already, but Sir Charles and Mrs. Annesley wish for another.' "Let them play double-dummy!" settling himself resolutely in his chair, and looking defiantly at her out of his quick, cross eyes. "Absurd!" "If you are so anxious to oblige them, why cannot you take a hand yourself?" "You know how I detest cards!" "And you know how I detest Mrs. Annesley." (Mrs. Annesley is the vulture of Esther's lively imagination.) Too dignified to descend to wrangling, Miss Blessington desists, and moves away, casting only one small glance of suppressed resentment at the innocent cause of Mr. Gerard's contumacy. "How _could_ you be so disobliging?" cries Esther, reproachfully, in childish irritation with him at having drawn her into undeserved disgrace. "Why shouldn't I?" he asks, placidly. "Believe me, it is the worst plan possible to encourage the idea that you are good-natured among your own people; it subjects you to endless impositions. For the last thirty years I have been struggling to establish a character for never doing what I am asked; would you have me undo all my work at one blow?"