“Countess zu Lynar! then one can soon see who she is,” said Mouse, as she went and got an Almanac de Gotha of the year from her writing-table. “Oh, I looked there last night,” said Brancepeth; “she isn’t there; but the porter told me she used to be the wife of that awfully rich banker Vanderlin.” Mouse looked up, astonished and momentarily interested. “Are you quite sure?” “Positive.” “Then she can’t be young now,” said Lady Kenilworth, with relief and satisfaction. “Oh, yes, she is; at least, quite young enough,” said Brancepeth vaguely. “Oh, I know all about her!” continued his friend. “She is not in society. We stand a good deal in London, but at present we don’t receive divorced women.” Brancepeth laughed softly with vast amusement, and did not offer any explanation of his laughter. “Such eyes!” he murmured dreamily. His friend was silent. After a while--“Oh, Lord, such eyes!” “My dear Harry,” said Mouse, with cold dignity, “pray spare me your lyrics, and go and write them in the porter’s book at the private hotel. You could probably approach the lady without the formula of introduction; a bouquet would do it for you.” Brancepeth shook his head mournfully. “Not that sort,” he said gloomily. “And you needn’t be in such a wax about it, Mouse; she’s gone back to the Continent this morning. They told me so at the hotel just now.” “And you did not go to Dover instead of coming here?” said his friend sarcastically. “I am amazed that old acquaintance had such a hold remaining on you as to make you resist the seductions of the tidal train.” “You can be nasty about it if you like,” said the handsome youth with sullen resignation. “You make the mistake which all women make. You fly at a man when he tells you the truth; and then you are astonished another time that he tells you a lie. If there’d been anything in it, of course I shouldn’t have told you anything.” “An admirable confession. I shall remember it another time.” “Women always make fellows lie. You bite our noses off if we ever happen to tell a word of truth!” “But it breaks my heart to think that you even see that other women exist, Harry!” “Oh, bother!” said Brancepeth roughly. “Don’t be a fool, Mousie. You see other men exist fast enough yourself.” She was silent. She was conscious that she did do so. Happily for the preservation of peace, there was at that moment announced Prince Khristof of Karstein. “Her father,” murmured Mousie in a swift whisper, but Brancepeth was too obtuse to understand; he only stared, conscious that he had missed a tip.