"Ah," she said, "we three know too much about you to believe that. Now, what can a lone man like you want with money?" "A lone man may happen to be saddled with a name of--well, of some repute--an expensive luxury." "And you think that a great name is worth spending a fortune upon, like a garden, merely to keep it up?" "I do." "You think it worth all that?" The dark, inscrutable eyes were raised deliberately to her face. "Assuredly you must know that I do," he said. Mrs. Harrington laughed, and changed the subject. She knew this man's face well, and her knowledge told her that he was at the end of his patience. "So you saw Luke at Gibraltar?" she said, turning to Fitz. "Yes, for a short time. I had never seen the Croonah before. She is a fine ship." "So I understand. So fine, indeed, that two friends of mine, the Ingham-Bakers, were induced to go to Malta in her. There is no limit now to feminine enterprise. Mothers are wonderful, and their daughters no less so. N'est-ce pas, Senor?" "All ladies are wonderful!" said the Count, with a grave bow. "They are as the good God made them." "I don't agree with you there," snapped Mrs. Harrington. "So you saw the Ingham-Bakers also, Fitz?" "Yes; they lunched with us." "And Agatha was very pleasant, no doubt?" "Very." "She always is--to men. The Count admires her greatly. She makes him do so." "She has an easy task," put in De Lloseta quietly. It almost seemed that there was some feeling about Agatha between these two people. "You know," Mrs. Harrington went on, addressing herself to Fitz, "that Luke and I have made it up. We are friends now." Fitz did not answer at once. His face clouded over. Seen thus in anger, it was almost a hard face, older and somewhat worn. He raised his eyes, and they as suddenly softened, for Eve's eyes had met them, and she seemed to understand. "I am not inclined to discuss Luke," he said quietly. "My dear, I did not propose doing so," answered Mrs. Harrington, and her voice was so humble and conciliatory that De Lloseta looked up from his plate, from one face to the other. That Mrs. Harrington should accept this reproof thus humbly seemed to come as a surprise to them all, except Fitz, who went on eating his dinner with a singular composure. It would appear that Mrs. Harrington had been put out of temper by some small incident at the beginning of the dinner, and, like a spoilt child, proceeded to vent her displeasure on all and sundry. In the same way she would no doubt have continued, unless spoken sharply to, as Fitz had spoken. For now her manner quite changed, and the rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. Mrs. Harrington now devoted herself to her guests, and as carefully avoided dangerous subjects as she had hitherto appeared to seek them. After dinner she asked the Count to tune his violin, while she herself prepared to play his accompaniment.