“So here I am again, you will say,” said Lady Mariamne. She had taken off her gloves, and was smoothing her hands, from the points of the fingers downwards, not, I believe, with any intention of demonstrating their whiteness, but solely because she had once done so, and the habit remained. She wore several fine rings, and her hands were still pretty, and--unlike the rest of her--younger than her age. They made a little show with their sparkling diamonds, just catching the edge of the light from John’s shaded lamp. Her face by Dolly’s help was in the shadow of the green shade. “You will say so, Mr. Tatham, I know: here she is again--without thinking how self-denying I have been, never to come, never to ask a single question, for all these years.” “The loss is mine, Lady Mariamne,” said John, gravely. “It’s very pretty of you to say that, isn’t it, Dolly? One’s old flirts don’t always show up so well.” And here the lady gave a laugh, such as had once been supposed to be one of Lady Mariamne’s charms, but which was rather like a giggle now--an antiquated giggle, which is much less satisfactory than the genuine article. “How I used to worry you about poor Phil, and that little spitfire of a Nell--and what a mess they have made of it! I suppose you know what changes have happened in the family, Mr. Tatham, since those days?” “I heard indeed, with regret, Lady Mariamne, that you had lost a brother----” “A brother! two!” she cried. “Isn’t it extraordinary--poor Hal, that was the picture of health? How little one knows! He just went, don’t you know, without any one ever thinking he would go. Regg in India was different--you expect that sort of thing when a man is in India. But poor Hal! I told you Mr. Tatham wouldn’t have heard of it, Dolly, not being in our own set, don’t you know.” “It was in all the papers,” said Miss Dolly. “Ah, well, you didn’t notice it, I suppose: or perhaps you were away. I always say it is of no use being married or dying or anything else in September--your friends never hear of it. You will wonder that I am not in black, but black was always very unbecoming to me, and dark grey is just as good, and doesn’t make one quite so ghastly. But the funny thing is that now Phil--who looked as if he never could be in the running, don’t you know--is heir presumptive. Isn’t it extraordinary? Two gone, and Phil, that lived much faster than either of them, and at one time kept up an awful pace, has seen them both out. And St. Serf has never married. He won’t now, though I have been at him on the subject for years. He says, not if he knows it, in the horrid way men have. And I don’t wonder much, for he has had some nasty experiences, poor fellow. There was Lady---- Oh, I almost forgot you were there, Dolly.” “You needn’t mind me,” said Dolly, gravely; “I’ve heard just as bad.”