“What strikes one most is a sort of commercial brilliance in her,” taking up his thread again after a smilingly reflective pause. “It quite exhilarates one by its novelty. There's spice in it. We English have not a look-in when we are dealing with Americans, and yet France calls us a nation of shopkeepers. My impression is that their women take little inventories of every house they enter, of every man they meet. I heard her once speaking to my wife about this place, as if she had lived in it. She spoke of the closed windows and the state of the gardens--of broken fountains and fallen arches. She evidently deplored the deterioration of things which represented capital. She has inventoried Dunholm, no doubt. That will give Westholt a chance. But she will do nothing until after her next year's season in London--that I'd swear. I look forward to next year. It will be worth watching. She has been training my wife. A sister who has married an Englishman and has at least spent some years of her life in England has a certain established air. When she is presented one knows she will be a sensation. After that----” he hesitated a moment, smiling not too pleasantly. “After that,” said Mount Dunstan, “the Deluge.” “Exactly. The Deluge which usually sweeps girls off their feet--but it will not sweep her off hers. She will stand quite firm in the flood and lose sight of nothing of importance which floats past.” Mount Dunstan took him up. He was sick of hearing the fellow's voice. “There will be a good many things,” he said; “there will be great personages and small ones, pomps and vanities, glittering things and heavy ones.” “When she sees what she wants,” said Anstruthers, “she will hold out her hand, knowing it will come to her. The things which drown will not disturb her. I once made the blunder of suggesting that she might need protection against the importunate--as if she had been an English girl. It was an idiotic thing to do.” “Because?” Mount Dunstan for the moment had lost his head. Anstruthers had maddeningly paused. “She answered that if it became necessary she might perhaps be able to protect herself. She was as cool and frank as a boy. No air pince about it--merely consciousness of being able to put things in their right places. Made a mere male relative feel like a fool.” “When ARE things in their right places?” To his credit be it spoken, Mount Dunstan managed to say it as if in the mere putting together of idle words. What man likes to be reminded of his right place! No man wants to be put in his right place. There is always another place which seems more desirable. “She knows--if we others do not. I suppose my right place is at Stornham, conducting myself as the brother-in-law of a fair American should. I suppose yours is here--shut up among your closed corridors and locked doors. There must be a lot of them in a house like this. Don't you sometimes feel it too large for you?” “Always,” answered Mount Dunstan.