"I'm afraid she realized that you weren't making her welcome," Annesley smiled. "You weren't very nice to her, were you?" "I was as nice as she deserved," the man excused himself. "But she was good to me last night!" "She owes it to me to be good. It's a debt I expect her to pay, that's all, and I'm not sure she's paying it generously. You needn't be too grateful, dear." "Perhaps, as she's known you some time, she feels you're sacrificing yourself," Annesley defended the Countess. "I don't blame her!" "She's sharp enough to see that I'm in great luck," said Smith. "But I suppose there's always a dash of the cat in a woman of her race. I hope there's no need to tell you that she has no right to be jealous. If she had, I wouldn't have put you within reach of her claws. There are assorted sizes and kinds of jealousy, though. Some women want all the lime-light and grudge sparing any for a younger and prettier girl." Annesley laughed. "_Prettier!_ Why, she's a beauty, and I----" "Wait till I introduce you to Mrs. Nelson Smith, who's going to be one of the best-dressed, best-looking young women in London, and you'll be _sorry_ for the poor old Countess," returned Smith, warmly. "You can afford then to heap coals of fire on her head, which can't make it redder than it is. Meanwhile, it occurs to me, from the way the wind blows, you'd better go carefully with the lady! Don't let her pump you about yourself, or what happened at Mrs. Ellsworth's. It's not her business. Don't confide any more than you need, and if she pretends to confide in _you_ understand that it will be for a purpose. The Countess is no _ingenue_! "But enough about her," he went on, abruptly. "She sha'n't spoil our first breakfast together, even by reminding me of gloomy meals I used sometimes to eat with her when we happened to find ourselves in each other's society on board the _Monarchic_. I was feeling down on my luck then, and she wasn't the one to cheer me up. But things are different now. Have you noticed, by the way, that she has a nickname for me?" "Yes," Annesley admitted. "She calls you 'Don.'" "It's a name she made up because she used to say, when we first met, I was like a Spaniard; and I can jabber Spanish among other lingos. It's more her native tongue, you know, than English. I only refer to it because I want you to have a special name of your own for me, and I don't want it to be that one. It can't be Nelson, because--well, I can never be at home as Nelson with the girl I love best--the one who knows how I came to call myself that. Will you make up a name for me, and begin to get used to it to-day? I'd like it if you could." "May I call you 'Knight'?" Annesley asked, shyly. "I've named you my knight already in my mind and--and heart." He looked at her with rather a beautiful look: clear and wistful, even remorseful.