Everybody, especially the Prussian officer, was listening with interest; no one spoke, except to draw out further information; even Ermengarde's familiar demon, the Anarchist, who, to her disgust, was sitting at a table near, drinking something through a long straw, was hanging upon Mrs. Dinwiddie's words, when Dorris, after several baffled attempts by various irrelevant remarks and inept questions, promptly snubbed by the genial Yankee, to plunge headlong into the talk, suddenly shouted, "Mrs. Allonby, I do want to know something very badly," with such energy and emphasis that it was impossible not to give some faint response. "Yes?" said Ermengarde, politely patient, though she had not forgotten the fair girl's depreciation of her nose, which certainly had a tiny tilt at the tip. "I want badly to know," Dorris called across Mrs. Dinwiddie, "whether you really are the wife of _the_ Allonby?" "That is so," echoed the American, her interest suddenly diverted. "Do tell, Mrs. Allonby, are you?" "How can I tell?" she objected. "I know very well which is my Allonby, but how do I know which is yours?" "Land's sake!" cried Mrs. Dinwiddie, "Why, the famous Allonby, to be sure--the author of 'Storm and Stress.' Are you a relative of that prominent writer?" What was the woman driving at? 'Storm and Stress'? Was it--could it be the title of Arthur's latest effusion? "Well," she replied slowly and thoughtfully, "I never like to be too certain about anything--it is not good manners, so I was brought up to think--but I--ah--I think--yes, I rather fancy that I am--connected with him--the writing-man you are speaking of. As far as I _know_, he is some sort of a connexion of mine--by marriage--only a connexion by marriage." A curious snorting sound drew momentary and disgusted attention to the Anarchist, who appeared to be choking badly through the long straws--foreigners are so hopelessly ignorant of the niceties of table manners. Mrs. Dinwiddie looked disappointed, even defrauded, until she caught Ermengarde's eye, when her high-featured visage expanded into a genial smile. But Dorris was all gurgles, triumphant, exasperating. "I knew it all the time," she exclaimed scornfully. "I was sure you were not his wife, but Lady Seaton and Mr. Welbourne would have it you were." "Mr. Allonby's is a very remarkable work," Lady Seaton said. "I don't know when I have been so thoroughly roused and invigorated by any book. All thinking people must be grateful to the author of 'Storm and Stress.'" "All thinking people are," the nephew added; with firm conviction. "Very kind of you to say so," Ermengarde faintly murmured. "They're just mad about it on our side," Mrs. Dinwiddie told her. "We judge that Arthur Allonby has arrived with 'Storm and Stress' on our side."