“Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am learning a great deal,” and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, “about the world.” “Well,” said Philip, “t's all here.” “I suppose so. But do you know,” and there was quite an ingenuous blush in her cheeks as she said it, “it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a picnic in Zoar.” “So you remember that?” Philip had not command of himself enough not to attempt the sentimental. “You must think I have a weak memory,” she replied, with a laugh. “And the story? When shall we have it?” “Soon, I hope. And, Miss Mavick, I owe so much of it to you that I hope you will let me send you the very first copy from the press.” “Will you? And do you Of course I shall be pleased and” (making him a little curtsy) “honored, as one ought to say in this company.” Lord Montague was evidently getting uneasy, for his attention was distracted from the occupation of feeding. “No, don't go Lord Montague, an old friend, Mr. Burnett.” “Much pleased,” said his lordship, looking round rather inquiringly at the intruder. “I can't say much for the champagne--ah, not bad, you know--but I always said that your terrapin isn't half so nasty as it looks.” And his lordship laughed most good-humoredly, as if he were paying the American nation a deserved compliment. “Yes,” said Philip, “we have to depend upon France for the champagne, but the terrapin is native.” “Quite so, and devilish good! That ain't bad, 'depend upon France for the champagne!' There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick.” “It needs an Englishman to appreciate it,” replied Evelyn, with a twinkle in her eyes which was lost upon her guest. In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away. The party was over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted again by the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner acquaintance with whom he took a turn. The lady must have thought him a very uninteresting or a very absent-minded companion. As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a “go” in the dancing-room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, and the historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very amusing, and that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter early in the morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab. XVII The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt's room.