A scornful glitter came into Mrs. Armour’s eyes--a peculiar touch of burnished gold, an effect of the light at a certain angle of the lens. It gave for the instant an uncanny look to the face, almost something malicious. She guessed why this woman had come. She knew the whole history of the past, and it touched her in a tender spot. She knew she was had at an advantage. Before her was a woman perfectly trained in the fine social life to which she was born, whose equanimity was as regular as her features. Herself was by nature a creature of impulse, of the woods and streams and open life. The social convention had been engrafted. As yet she was used to thinking and speaking with all candour. She was to have her training in the charms of superficiality, but that was to come; and when it came she would not be an unskilful apprentice. Perhaps the latent subtlety of her race came to help her natural candour at the moment. For she said at once, in a slow, quiet tone: “I never heard my husband speak of you. Will you sit down?” “And Mrs. Armour and Marion are not in? No, I suppose your husband did not speak much of his old friends.” The attack was studied and cruel. But Lady Haldwell had been stung by Mrs. Armour’s remark, and it piqued her that this was possible. “Well, yes, he spoke of some of his friends, but not of you.” “Indeed! That is strange.” “There was no necessity,” said Mrs. Armour quietly. “Of discussing me? I suppose not. But by some chance--” “It was just as well, perhaps, not to anticipate the pleasure of our meeting.” Lady Haldwell was surprised. She had not expected this cleverness. They talked casually for a little time, the visitor trying in vain to delicately give the conversation a personal turn. At last, a little foolishly, she grew bolder, with a needless selfishness. “So old a friend of your husband as I am, I am hopeful you and I may be friends also.” Mrs. Armour saw the move. “You are very kind,” she said conventionally, and offered a cup of tea. Lady Haldwell now ventured unwisely. She was nettled at the other’s self-possession. “But then, in a way, I have been your friend for a long time, Mrs. Armour.” The point was veiled in a vague tone, but Mrs. Armour understood. Her reply was not wanting. “Any one who has been a friend to my husband has, naturally, claims upon me.” Lady Haldwell, in spite of herself, chafed. There was a subtlety in the woman before her not to be reckoned with lightly. “And if an enemy?” she said, smiling. A strange smile also flickered across Mrs. Armour’s face as she said: “If an enemy of my husband called, and was penitent, I should--offer her tea, no doubt.” “That is, in this country; but in your own country, which, I believe, is different, what would you do?” Mrs. Armour looked steadily and coldly into her visitor’s eyes. “In my country enemies do not compel us to be polite.”