Lady Grenellen, gorgeous as a sultana, seemed to have collected all the cushions to enhance her comfort as she lay back in a low, deep sofa. Augustus sat beside her. From here one could not see his ugliness, and the dark claret color of his smoking-suit rather set off her gown. She had the most alluring expression upon her face, which just caught the light. His attitude was humble. The storm, for the present, was over between them. Two other women, the heiress, Babykins, and Lord Tilchester, and several young men sat round the table like children eating their bread-and-jam. The Duke and Miss Martina B. Cadwallader were examining the armor. Some one was playing the piano softly. Merry laughter floated upward. I doubt if any other country could produce such a scene. It would have pleased grandmamma. "Why, by the stars and stripes, there is a ghost in the gallery!" exclaimed Miss Corrisande K. Trumpet, pointing to me. The faint glimmer of my white velvet tea-gown must have caught her eyes as I moved away. "No, I am not a ghost," I called, "and I am coming down to eat hot muffins." So I crossed and descended the turret stairs. Lady Tilchester had not appeared yet. I sat down at the table next "Billy." It was all so gay and friendly no one could feel depressed. Viewed close, Miss Trumpet was, for her age, too splendidly attired. She looked prettier in her simple travelling-dress. But her spirits and her repartee left nothing to be desired. She kept us all amused, and, whether Lady Grenellen would eventually permit it or no, Lord Luffton seemed immensely _épris_ with her now. There was only one other girl at the table, Lady Agatha de Champion, and her slouching, stooping figure and fuzzled hair did not show to advantage beside the heiress's upright, rounded shape and well-brushed waves. "Where have you been all the afternoon?" demanded the Duke, reproachfully, over my shoulder. "I searched everywhere down-stairs, and finally sent to your room, but your maid knew nothing of you." "I have been sitting with Lady Tilchester in her sitting-room," I said, smiling. "Here comes Margaret. She shall answer to me for kidnapping my guests like this." And he went forward to meet her. "Do not scold me," said Lady Tilchester, as she returned with him. "I think Mrs. Gurrage will tell you we have spent a very pleasant afternoon." "Indeed, yes," I said. "And I mean to spend a pleasant evening," he whispered, low, to me. "As soon as you have eaten that horrid muffin I shall carry you off to see my pictures." I looked at Lady Tilchester. What would she wish me to do? "Impress upon him the necessity of being charming to the heiress. You were quite right. He has a serious rival," she whispered, and we walked off. The Duke can be agreeable in his unattractive, lackadaisical way. He is so full of information, not of the statistical kind like Miss Trumpet, but the result of immense cultivation.