Danyers never forgot the day when Mrs. Memorall happened to mention that she knew Mrs. Anerton. He had known Mrs. Memorall for a year or more, and had somewhat contemptuously classified her as the kind of woman who runs cheap excursions to celebrities; when one afternoon she remarked, as she put a second lump of sugar in his tea: “Is it right this time? You’re almost as particular as Mary Anerton.” “Mary Anerton?” “Yes, I never _can_ remember how she likes her tea. Either it’s lemon _with_ sugar, or lemon without sugar, or cream without either, and whichever it is must be put into the cup before the tea is poured in; and if one hasn’t remembered, one must begin all over again. I suppose it was Vincent Rendle’s way of taking his tea and has become a sacred rite.” “Do you _know_ Mrs. Anerton?” cried Danyers, disturbed by this careless familiarity with the habits of his divinity. “‘And did I once see Shelley plain?’ Mercy, yes! She and I were at school together--she’s an American, you know. We were at a _pension_ near Tours for nearly a year; then she went back to New York, and I didn’t see her again till after her marriage. She and Anerton spent a winter in Rome while my husband was attached to our Legation there, and she used to be with us a great deal.” Mrs. Memorall smiled reminiscently. “It was _the_ winter.” “The winter they first met?” “Precisely--but unluckily I left Rome just before the meeting took place. Wasn’t it too bad? I might have been in the _Life and Letters_. You know he mentions that stupid Madame Vodki, at whose house he first saw her.” “And did you see much of her after that?” “Not during Rendle’s life. You know she has lived in Europe almost entirely, and though I used to see her off and on when I went abroad, she was always so engrossed, so preoccupied, that one felt one wasn’t wanted. The fact is, she cared only about his friends--she separated herself gradually from all her own people. Now, of course, it’s different; she’s desperately lonely; she’s taken to writing to me now and then; and last year, when she heard I was going abroad, she asked me to meet her in Venice, and I spent a week with her there.” “And Rendle?”