"Ever since I married, fourteen years ago. I remember I saw him first at my wedding. He and Tilchester had, of course, been old friends, always living so near each other. We are exactly the same age--thirty-four, both of us. Growing old, you see!" She laughed softly, then she continued: "Antony was never like other men exactly. He is original, and extraordinarily well read--only casually one would never guess it. He wastes his life rather, though. I wish he would go into Parliament. He has a habit of rushing off on long travels. Some years ago he went off suddenly and was away for ages and ages--about five years, I think. Then he stayed at Dane Mount for a while, and then, when the war first began, he went out there, and has only been home a year." "He never speaks of himself nor what he does, I notice." "No; that is just his charm. I should like you to see Dane Mount. It is far nicer than this, and he has wonderful taste. It is the most comfortable house I know. He has delightful parties there when the shooting begins." "It would interest me to see it, because grandpapa came from there," I said. "Of course, you are cousins, in a way. You don't know how interested Antony was in you that night after the Tilchester Yeomanry ball. He came and sat in my sitting-room and talked to me about you, and then it was he put two and two together and discovered you were related. I had heard that evening about your grandmother and you living at the cottage, and was able to give him some information. I don't think he realized when you met that you were connected, did he?" "No, not at all." "A friend of mine and I were sitting by the fire, having said good-night to the rest of the party--do you remember what a cold May night it was? Antony came in and joined us. We all had admired you so. I recollect this is one of the things he said: 'I met an eighteenth-century marquise to-night.'" "Yes, he called me that." "He is so very hard to please. The ordinary women, like Babykins and Cordelia Grenellen, don't understand his subtle wit. They are generally in love with him, though. Cordelia was madly _éprise_ last autumn; but he is as indifferent as possible, and does not trouble himself about any of them. He is reported to have said once that it had taken him five years to degrade himself sufficiently to be able to enjoy the society of modern women. He is a wonderful cynic!" "The Duke gave me to understand that no man of the world was ever without some affair," I said. "Well, I suppose it is true more or less, but Antony is always the person who holds the cheek, hardly even complacently--generally with perfect indifference. I have never known him, for years, put himself out an inch for any woman." I don't know why, but this conversation interested me deeply.