“They are registered as Americans, however, and she has the peculiar beauty of one,” said the first speaker. “They have a way of enhancing their charms, too, by their perfect taste in dress. Our English ladies, as a rule, do not understand the art of dressing well, though there are, of course, exceptions to the rule, as Miss Vivien Sherbrooke’s charming costume over there testifies. By the way,” he added, with more animation, “they say that that handsome young American—Meredith, they call him—is going to win our Cheshire beauty away from us.” He glanced, as he ceased speaking, across the room to where Miss Sherbrooke was sitting, while Ralph Meredith, in an attitude of devotion, was bending over her chair. He was talking to her in a low tone, a smile on his handsome lips, a new light in his fine eyes, while she listened with drooping lids and flushed cheeks. But chancing to glance up suddenly, Ralph started and uttered a low exclamation of surprise. “Excuse me a few moments; I see friends,” he said; and then leaving her hastily, he made his way quickly across the room. “Miss Gladstone!” he cried, approaching and holding out his hand to her, his face all aglow. “I never was so happily surprised in my life! And here is Mr. Rosevelt, too! How does it happen that you are here? It seems almost like home to see home faces.” Star and Mr. Rosevelt greeted him most cordially, while Vivien Sherbrooke sat and watched them with wondering eyes and sinking heart. Who could this beautiful young girl be who appeared so delighted to meet the man whom she had been learning to love of late? What was she to him that she had power to make his face light up like that, and cause him to forget for the time the existence of any one else? It must be confessed that the charming Miss Sherbrooke was for the moment jealously inclined to regard Star as her rival. “I am afraid that you are not quite so well as usual. Your Western trip was too much for you, was it not?” Ralph said, when their greetings were over, as he noted her paleness, and was quick to see the look of pain in her expressive eyes. “Oh, no; I am very well, and you are looking finely. I think English air must agree with you,” Star said, quickly turning attention from herself to him. “Yes, I am in excellent condition,” he confessed, with rising color, as he remembered how miserable he had been when he last saw her, and what had caused the change in his feelings and appearance. “How long have you been in London?” he queried. “Only a week,” Mr. Rosevelt answered. “Wasn’t it a sudden start?” “Rather. I am here just now on a matter of business, but we intend to see something of this side of the world before we go back,” the old gentleman explained, with a smile.