“It’s very good of you,” replied Jean. She felt frankly grateful for the suggestion, realising that if, by any mischance, the letter should be delayed till then, Madame de Varigny’s offer would considerably smooth her path. In spite of Glyn’s decision that she must join him in Paris, should Lady Anne’s invitation fail to materialise, she was well aware that he would not greet her appearance on the scene with any enthusiasm. “I suppose”--the Countess was speaking again--“I suppose Brennan is a very frequent--a common name in England?” The question was put quite casually, more as though for the sake of making conversation than anything else, yet Madame de Varigny seemed to await the answer with a curious anxiety. “Oh, no,” Jean replied readily enough, “I don’t think it is a common name. Lady Anne married into a junior branch of the family, I believe,” she added. “That would not be considered a very good match for a peer’s daughter, surely?” hazarded the Countess. “A junior branch? I suppose there was a romantic love-affair of some kind behind it?” “It was Lady Anne’s second marriage. Her first husband was a Tormarin--one of the oldest families in England.” Jean spoke rather stiffly. There was something jarring about the pertinacious catechism. Madame de Varigny’s lips trembled as she put her next question, and not even the dusky fringe of lashes could quite soften the sudden tense gleam in her eyes. “Tor--ma--rin!” She pronounced the name with a French inflection, evidently finding the unusual English word a little beyond her powers. “What a curious name! That, I am sure, must be uncommon. And this Lady Anne--she has children--sons? No?” “Oh, yes. She has two sons.” “Indeed?” Madame de Varigny looked interested. “And what are the sons called?” Jean regarded her with mild surprise. Apparently the subject of nomenclature had a peculiar fascination for her. “I really forget. My father did once tell me, but I don’t recollect what he said.” A perceptible shade of disappointment passed over the other’s face, then, as though realising that she had exhibited a rather uncalled-for curiosity, she said deprecatingly: “I fear I seem intrusive. But I am so interested in your future--I have taken a great fancy to you, mademoiselle. That must be my excuse.” She rose from the table, adding smilingly: “At least you will not find it dull, since Lady Anne has two sons. They will he companions for you.” Jean rose, too, and together they passed out of the _salle à manger_. “And what do you propose to do with yourself to-day?” asked the Countess, pausing in the hall. “My husband and I are going for a sleigh drive. Would you care to come with us? We should he delighted.” Jean shook her head. “It’s very kind of you. But I should really like to try my luck on the ice. I haven’t skated for some years, and as I feel a trifle shaky about beginning again, Monsieur Griolet, who directs the sports, has promised to coach me up a bit some time this morning.”