What a dazzling vision she was, as she smiled on him across the flower-filled and perfumed space which divided them! She had smiled like that when she had first spoken to him of buying Vale Royal in the early days of his acquaintance with her. William Massarene was no fool, and he knew that he would have to pay its full price for that enchanting smile, but though he was not its dupe he was its victim. He was nervous as he had never been when he had heard the order, “Hands up!” in the solitude of a mountain gorge at midnight amongst the Rockies. The smile was encouraging, but the rest of the attitude was serene, almost severe, as pure as a Virgin in a tryptich of Van der Goes; she was at work on some embroidery; she had Boo on a stool at her feet; she looked an exquisite picture of youthful maternity; he could scarcely believe that he had seen her cutting those mad capers on the sward of the German forest, or heard her scream with laughter at the supper-table of Bignon’s. Boo got up on her little black-stockinged legs, ran to him, and looked at him from under her golden cloud of hair. “What has oo brought me?” said the true child of modernity. “Do you remember the sweeties at the Baths, my lovely darling?” stammered Mr. Massarene, immensely touched and gratified at the child’s recollection of him, and full of remorse that he had not rifled Regent Street. “Boo always remembers her friends,” said Boo’s mother very pleasantly, as she delivered him from the Blenheims, and made him seat himself beside her. “Old fat man’s come as was at Ombo; but he didn’t bring nothin’ for us,” said Boo to Jack at the nursery dinner ten minutes later. “Mammy’s goin’ to get somethin’ ’cos she was so civil to him.” “Oo’re always thinkin’ of _gettin’_, Boo,” said Jack, with his rosy mouth full of mashed potato. “What’s the use o’ peoples else?” said his sister solemnly, picking up the roast mutton which her nurse had cut up into little dice on her plate. Jack pondered awhile upon this question. “I likes peoples ’cos I like ’em,” he replied at last. “You’re a boy!” returned his sister with withering contempt. A week later, Boo’s mother, with a very gay and hilarious round dozen of friends, including her eldest sister, Lady Wisbeach, dined at Harrenden House, and the gentleman known as Harry took in Mrs. Massarene. Two weeks later the Massarenes breakfasted in Stanhope Street expressly to meet an imperial grand duchess who at that time was running about London; and the grand duchess was very smiling and good-natured, and chattered volubly, and invited herself to dinner at Harrenden House. “They do tell me,” she said graciously, “that you have such a wonderful Clodion.”