“Almost--papa--you mean quite a man. It is a dreadful reflection to me that I am older than Miles,” said Olivia, smiling. Then they sat about the fire, and Olivia, putting her fan down in her lap, looked French Pembroke full in the face and said, “You know, perhaps, that Madame Koller and Mr. Ahlberg dine here to-night?” “Yes,” answered Pembroke, with all the coolness of conscious innocence--or brazen assurance of careless wickedness, Olivia could not tell which. “You saw a good deal of them abroad, didn’t you?” was her next question. “Yes,” again replied Pembroke. “Olivia, my dear,” said her father, who very much enjoyed this little episode, “you women will never learn that you can’t find anything out by asking questions; and Pembroke, my boy, remember that women never believe you except when you are lying to them. Let him alone, Olivia, and he will tell you the whole story, I’ll warrant.” Olivia’s training had made her something of a stoic under Colonel Berkeley’s remarks, but at this a deep red dyed her clear pale face. She was the best of daughters, but she could at that moment have cheerfully inflicted condign punishment on her father. Pembroke saw it too, not without a little malicious satisfaction. She had quietly assumed in her tone and manner that he was in some way responsible for Madame Koller and her mother being at The Beeches--an incident fraught with much discomfort for him--none the less that there was nothing tragic about it, but rather ridiculous. All the same, he determined to set himself right on the spot. “Of course, I saw them often. It would have been quite unpardonable if I had not, considering we were often in the same places--and our land joins. I can’t say that I recollect Madame Koller very much before she went away. I only remember her as rather an ugly little thing, always strumming on the piano. I took the liberty of telling both her and Madame Schmidt that I did not think they would find a winter at The Beeches very pleasant--but it seems she did not agree with me. Ahlberg is a cousin by marriage, and has been in the diplomatic corps--” And at that very moment Petrarch threw open the drawing-room door and announced “Mrs. Koller and Mr. Ahlberg, sah.” Madame Koller’s appearance was none the less striking in evening dress, with ropes of amber around her neck, and some very fine diamonds. Who says that women are indifferent to each other? The instant Olivia beheld Madame Koller in her gorgeous trailing gown of yellow silk, and her jewels, she felt plain, insignificant, and colorless both in features, dress and manner--while Madame Koller, albeit she knew both herself and other women singularly well, almost envied Olivia the girlish simplicity, the slightness and grace that made her a pretty picture in her white gown with the bunch of late autumn roses at her belt.