“When they were engaged? Yes. My dear, if you’d heard Robert’s ravings at the time! Heavens! how funny it was! He and Cecily nearly came to grief over it, because Cecily said Mayne was an old friend, and she couldn’t refuse to see him, which was, I believe, what the lunatic wanted her to promise. Robert’s my godson, and he’s good-looking enough to make me quite fond of him, but he’s a heaven-born fool for all that. Have you ever heard his rhetoric when he’s excited? You should. It’s worthy of a successful melodrama. He used to do the romantic hero-in-love to perfection. His feeling for Cecily was such that it was a profanation for any other man to touch her hand, and did I think a woman who allowed a rejected suitor to have tea in the same drawing-room with her, _could_ possess that burning, white-souled adoration for her affianced husband which he required from the woman who was to bear his name? I offered him the impossible advice of not being a fool, and Mayne went away to catch tigers and fevers--and the public ear.” “Yes, he’s done that,” returned Mrs. Carruthers. “He’s quite a great man now--the papers are full of him.” “Mr. Mayne,” announced the footman at the door. “We were talking about you,” said Lady Wilmot, rising graciously. “I was unconscious of my danger,” returned Mayne, with an audacious smile which met its friendly response. Mayne was, with Lady Wilmot, a privileged person, chiefly because he took her maliciousness for granted. “You’ve grown,” she remarked, regarding with critical attention his bronzed face and tall, well-knit figure. “What did you expect? I was but a lad of thirty when I left you.” He had shaken hands with Mrs. Carruthers, and seated himself on the end of a divan by this time--very much at his ease. “You’re much better looking,” was Lady Wilmot’s next comment. “I can bear it,” he returned, imperturbably. “If I say _you_ haven’t altered at all it’s the best compliment I can pay you.” “I will ignore its lack of truthfulness, and give you some tea,” she said, crossing to the tea-table. “Are you going to read any more papers this time? Why didn’t you come to see me when you were home two years ago?” “Because, dear lady, _you_ were abroad.” “Was I? So I was. Who did you see then? Did you see the Kingslakes?” She shot a glance at him as he rose to take the cup she offered, but his face was immovable. “I didn’t see any one. After reading an exceedingly dull paper before the Royal Society, I fled to the shelter of the paternal roof in Ireland, desperately ashamed of myself.” “You don’t want me to ask you about your travels and explorings, do you? It would bore me a great deal to hear them. Sugar?” “Thanks, no. Not half so much, I’m sure, as it would bore me to tell them. I came to hear all the latest scandal. Won’t you begin before the actors arrive?” “Miss Burton,” said the man at the door. “Too late!” ejaculated Lady Wilmot, as she went forward to meet her new guest.