“I’m sure I don’t know what he belongs to—you may ask him!” cried Rosy, laughing gaily again, as the opening door readmitted the subject of their conversation. “You must have crossed the water with her ladyship,” she went on. “I wonder who enjoyed their walk most.” “She’s a handy old girl, and she has a goodish stride,” said the young man. “I think she’s in love with you, simply, Mr Muniment.” “Really, my dear, for an admirer of the aristocracy you allow yourself a license,” Paul murmured, smiling at Hyacinth. Hyacinth got up, feeling that really he had paid a long visit; his curiosity was far from satisfied, but there was a limit to the time one should spend in a young lady’s sleeping apartment. “Perhaps she is; why not?” he remarked. “Perhaps she is, then; she’s daft enough for anything.” “There have been fine folks before who have patted the people on the back and pretended to enter into their life,” Hyacinth said. “Is she only playing with that idea, or is she in earnest?” “In earnest—in terrible earnest, my dear fellow. I think she must be rather crowded out at home.” “Crowded out of Inglefield? Why, there’s room for three hundred!” Rosy broke in. “Well, if that’s the kind of mob that’s in possession, no wonder she prefers Camberwell. We must be kind to the poor lady,” Paul added, in a tone which Hyacinth noticed. He attributed a remarkable meaning to it; it seemed to say that people such as he were now so sure of their game that they could afford to be magnanimous; or else it expressed a prevision of the doom which hung over her ladyship’s head. Muniment asked if Hyacinth and Rosy had made friends, and the girl replied that Mr Robinson had made himself very agreeable. “Then you must tell me all about him after he goes, for you know I don’t know him much myself,” said her brother. “Oh yes, I’ll tell you everything; you know how I like describing.” Hyacinth was laughing to himself at the young lady’s account of his efforts to please her, the fact being that he had only listened to her own eager discourse, without opening his mouth; but Paul, whether or no he guessed the truth, said to him very pertinently, “It’s very wonderful: she can describe things she has never seen. And they are just like the reality.” “There’s nothing I’ve never seen,” Rosy rejoined. “That’s the advantage of my lying here in such a manner. I see everything in the world.” “You don’t seem to see your brother’s meetings—his secret societies and clubs. You put that aside when I asked you.” “Oh, you mustn’t ask her that sort of thing,” said Paul, lowering at Hyacinth with a fierce frown—an expression which he perceived in a moment to be humorously assumed. “What am I to do, then, since you won’t tell me anything definite yourself?” “It will be definite enough when you get hanged for it!” Rosy exclaimed, mockingly. “Why do you want to poke your head into black holes?” Muniment asked, laying his hand on Hyacinth’s shoulder, and shaking it gently.