“I dare say I only fancied I ever saw anybody like him,” she said with a little wearied twist of her head and sticking forward of her round chin. “I can’t count every hair on the head of every old gentleman I see.” And however often he might return to this subject, and in whatever mood she happened to be, George could learn nothing more definite than her first vague impression, which grew even fainter as the meeting faded into the past. In the meantime Nouna was becoming rather weary of looking into the pretty shop windows without being able to buy anything, and of walking among the people in the park without joining in any other of their amusements. George had had designed for her a tailor-made walking-dress of white cloth embroidered in gold thread and bright-coloured silks which, with a small white cloth cap embroidered in the same way, caused her appearance to make a great sensation among the conventionally ill-dressed crowds of Englishwomen with more money, rank, and beauty, than taste. He was himself much surprised to see how easily she wore a dress of a cut to which she was unaccustomed, and how well she looked in it. The conventional shape of the gown only emphasised the difference between the natural movements of her lithe form and the stiff bobbings and jerkings and swayings which mark the gait of the ordinary English girl. The reason was simply that Nouna had by nature that great gift of beauty of attitude and movement which we call grace; and as among the handsomest women of England only one in every hundred is graceful either by nature or art, that quality alone would have been enough to make the half Indian girl conspicuous. Therefore there was much discussion among onlookers as to her nationality. The Indian type is not common enough among us to be widely recognised, or the delicate little aquiline nose, the long eyes, and the peculiar tint of her skin, might have betrayed her; as it was, conjectures wavered between France and Spain as a birthplace for her; for while she wore her dress like a Parisian, she certainly walked like a Spaniard. By no means unconscious of the attention she excited, Nouna would have liked to come in closer contact with some of the handsome Englishmen who seemed by their respectfully admiring looks to be so well-disposed towards her. For she was decidedly of a “coming-on” disposition, and not at all troubled with raw shyness or an excess of haughty reserve. Neither was she conscious of anything forward or improper in her sociability. “All these gentlemen that we pass, and those standing in a crowd near the railings under those trees--they are gentlemen, the English gentlemen mamma thinks so much of, aren’t they?” “Oh yes,” answered George smiling, “they are among what are called the best men, though it’s rather a rum term to apply to some of them.” “I should like to know some of them: you do, I see them nod to you.” “Wouldn’t you rather know some of the pretty ladies?”