"But I can laugh, though I love you. I do not understand." And she wondered. He took her hand in his and stroked it gently, wishing it were possible to smile. Some day, perhaps, she would tire of this monotonous gravity, this rigid sweetness. It was not strange that she should long for a little facial expression. They sat silently. "Jenny, what is it?" he whispered suddenly. For Jenny, with wide-open eyes, was gazing over his head, across the lawn. "Why do you look frightened?" "There is a strange woman smiling at me across the palings," she said. "I do not know her." Her husband's heart sank. Somehow, he dared not turn his head to the intruder. "She is nodding to me," said Jenny. "I think she is foreign, for she has an evil face." "Do not notice her," he whispered. "Does she look evil?" "Very evil and very dark. She has a pink parasol. Her teeth are like ivory." "Do not notice her. Think! It is the mensiversary of our wedding, dear!" "I wish she would not smile at me. Her eyes are like bright blots of ink." "Let us eat our beautiful buns!" "Oh, she is coming in!" George heard the latch of the gate jar. "Forbid her to come in!" whispered Jenny, "I am afraid!" He heard the jar of heels on the gravel path. Yet he dared not turn. Only he clasped Jenny's hand more tightly, as he waited for the voice. It was La Gambogi's. "Pray, pray, pardon me! I could not mistake the back of so old a friend." With the courage of despair, George turned and faced the woman. "Even," she smiled, "though his face has changed marvellously." "Madam," he said, rising to his full height and stepping between her and his bride, "begone, I command you, from this garden. I do not see what good is to be served by the renewal of our acquaintance." "Acquaintance!" murmured La Gambogi, with an arch of her beetle-brows. "Surely we were friends, rather, nor is my esteem for you so dead that I would crave estrangement." "Madam," rejoined Lord George, with a tremor in his voice, "you see me happy, living very peacefully with my bride----" "To whom, I beseech you, old friend, present me." "I would not," he said hotly, "desecrate her sweet name by speaking it with so infamous a name as yours." "Your choler hurts me, old friend," said La Gambogi, sinking composedly upon the garden-seat and smoothing the silk of her skirts. "Jenny," said George, "then do you retire, pending this lady's departure, to the cottage." But Jenny clung to his arm. "I were less frightened at your side," she whispered. "Do not send me away!"