“Yes,” she said. “It pleases me very much that you should think so--more like me than Lance. Lance! What a name! My mother made a mésalliance. I don’t give up my father, poor dear, though he has saddled me with such a family--but Laura is me, whereas Lance is only--an accident.” “An accident that may be removed,” he said, involuntarily. It was a thing that might be said to any unmarried woman, a conventional sort of half compliment, which custom would have permitted him to put in even stronger terms--but to her! When he had said it horror seized his soul. “No,” she said, gently shaking her head. “No. At my age one does not recover from an accident like that; one must bear the scar all one’s days. And you really had nothing to find fault with me about?” “How monstrous!” he cried, “to entertain such a thought.” Then, for he was really uneasy in his sense of guilt, he plunged into a new snare. “My little daughter, Betty,” he said, “is coming to town to-day to visit some friends in Portman Square. I wonder if I might bring her to see you.” “Your daughter!” cried Miss Lance, clasping her hands, “a thing I did not venture to ask--the very first desire of my heart. Your daughter! I would go anywhere to see her. If you will be so nice, so sweet, so kind as to bring her, Colonel Kingsward!” “I shall, indeed, to-morrow. It will do her good to see you. At her susceptible age the very sight of such a woman as you--” “No compliments,” she cried, “if I am not to be blamed I must not be praised either--and I deserve it much less. Is she the eldest?” There was a gleam under her half-dropped eyelids which the Colonel was vaguely aware of but did not understand. “The second,” he said. “My eldest girl is Bee, in many respects a stronger character than her sister, but on the other hand--” “I know,” said Miss Lance, “a little wilful, fond of her own way and her own opinion. Oh, that is a good fault in a girl! When they are a little chastened they turn out the finest women. But I understand what a man must feel for this little sweet thing who has not begun to have a will of her own.” It was not perhaps a very perfect characterisation of Betty, but still it flattered him to see how she entered into his thoughts. “I think you understand everything,” he said. CHAPTER VI.