The next day Diavolo happened to stroll into the oriel room about tea-time, and finding his grandfather sitting there alone, looking down upon Morningquest from his accustomed seat in the great deep window, which was open, he carefully chose a soft cushion, placing it on the low sill so that he could rest his back against it, and stretching himself out on the floor, looked up at the old gentleman sociably. "You're growing a big fellow, sir," the latter observed. "But not growing so fast as Angelica is," said Diavolo. "Ah, women mature earlier," said the duke. "But their minds never get far beyond the first point at which they arrive." "I suppose you mean when they marry at seventeen, or their education is otherwise stopped short for them, just when a man is beginning his properly?" Diavolo languidly suggested. The duke frowned down at him. "Where is your sister?" he asked. "That I can't tell you," Diavolo answered. "Don't you know?" the duke said sharply. "Yes," was the cool rejoinder; "but I don't happen to have my sister's permission to say." The old man's face relaxed into a smile: "That's right my boy, that's right," he said, "Loyalty is a grand virtue. Be loyal to the ladies"--he shook his head in search of an improving aphorism, but only succeeded in extracting a familiar saw. "Kiss, but never tell," he said, "it's vulgarly put, my boy, but there's a whole code in it, and a damned chivalrous code, too. I tell you, men were gentlemen when they stuck to it." There was a sound of stealthy footsteps in the room at this moment, and the old duke glanced over his shoulder apprehensively, while Diavolo bent to one side to peer round the chair his grandfather was sitting in, which was between him and the door. "It's one of the dogs," he said carelessly. "Father Ricardo is out, I think." The duke looked relieved. "Well," Diavolo resumed, reflectively, "I should have thought myself that it was playing it pretty low down to sneak on a woman. But, I say, sir," he asked innocently, "how would you define a lady-killer?" "Lady-killer," said the little old gentleman, taking hold of his collar to perk himself up out of his clothes, as it were, on the strength of his past reputation: "A lady-killer is a--eh--a fellow whom ladies--eh--admire." "Do you mean real ladies, or only pretty women?" said Diavolo. "Both, my boy, both," the duke answered complacently. He was beginning to enjoy himself. "You were one once, were you not, sir?" said Diavolo. "I suppose you had a deuced good time?" "Ah!" the duke ejaculated, with a sigh of retrospective satisfaction. Then, suddenly remembering his new role, he pulled himself up, and added severely. "But keep clear of women, my boy, keep clear of women. Women are the very devil, sir." "But supposing they run after _you_?" said Diavolo. "Nowadays, you know, a fellow gets so hunted down--they say."