On the evening of my arrival there happened to be a dance in the hotel, and watching, I saw Lady Lydbrook enter the ballroom. She looked very charming in a dance frock of bright orange, with a wreath of silver leaves in her hair. Her gown was certainly the most _chic_ of any in the room, and she wore a beautiful rope of pearls. Presently I summoned courage, and bowing, invited her to dance with me. She smiled with dignity and accepted. Hence we were soon acquaintances, for she danced beautifully, and I am told that I dance fairly well. After the fox-trot we sat down and chatted. I told her that I had only arrived that day. "I saw you," she said. "What a topping car you have! Ours is a Rolls but an old pattern. I'm always pressing my husband to get rid of it and buy a new model. But he won't. Business men are all the same. They tot up figures and weigh the cost of everything," and she laughed lightly, showing a set of pearly teeth. "They weigh up everything one eats and wears. I hope you're not a business man?" "No. I'm not," I replied with a smile. "If I were I might be a bit richer than I am." "Money! Bah!" she exclaimed as she waved the big ostrich feather that served her as fan. "It's all very well in its way, but some men get stifled with their money-bags, just as Owen is. Their wealth is so great that its very heaviness presses out all their good qualities and only leaves avarice behind." "But to have great wealth at one's command must be a source of great joy. Look how much good one could do!" I said philosophically. "Good! Yes," she laughed. "The rich man can be philanthropic--if he is not a business man, Mr. Cottingham. The latter--if he tries to do good to his fellow-creatures--is dubbed a fool in his business circles and invariably comes to grief. At least that is what Owen tells me. He's double my age, and he ought to know," added the charming little woman. I admitted that there was much truth in what she had said. Indeed, we had already grown to be such good friends that, at her invitation, the night being clear and moonlit, we strolled out of the hotel and along the promenade, half-way to the pier, and back. Her companion, Miss Wallis, I had seen in the ballroom dancing with an elderly man who had "the City" stamped all over him. We chatted upon many subjects as we strolled in the balmy moonlit night. "I expect my husband back in a day or two. He has been to Warsaw upon some financial business for the Government. When we leave here we go to Trouville for a week or so, and in the autumn I believe we go to America. My husband goes over each year." Then I learned from her that they had a town house in Curzon Street, a country place in Berkshire, and a villa at Cannes. They had, it appeared, only recently been married. "We generally manage to get to Cannes each winter for a month or two. I love the Riviera," she said. "Do you know it?" "Yes," I replied. "I've been there once or twice."