When she had gone, Lady Ver said old people without dyed hair or bridge proclivities were tiresome, and she smoked three cigarettes, one after the other, as fast as she could. (Welby is going to the theatre again to-night!) I said I thought Lady Merrenden was charming. She snapped my head off, for the first time, and then there was silence--but presently she began to talk, and fix herself in a most becoming way on the sofa--we were in her own sitting-room, a lovely place, all blue silk and French furniture, and attractive things. She said she had a cold, and must stay indoors. She had changed immediately into a tea-gown--but I could not hear any cough. “Charlie has just wired he comes back to-night,” she announced at length. “How nice for you!” I sympathized. “You will be able to make his heart beat!” “As a matter of fact it is extremely inconvenient, and I want you to be nice to him and amuse him, and take his attention off me, like a pet, Evangeline,” she cooed--and then, “What a lovely afternoon for November! I wish I could go for a walk in the Park,” she said. I felt it would be cruel to tease her further, and so announced my intention of taking exercise in that way with the angels. “Yes, it will do you good, dear child,” she said, brightly, “and I will rest here, and take care of my cold.” “They have asked me to tea in the nursery,” I said, “and I have accepted.” “Jewel of a Snake-girl!” she laughed--she is not thick. “Do you know the Torquilstone history?” she said, just as I was going out of the door. I came back--why, I can’t imagine, but it interested me. “Robert’s brother--half-brother, I mean--the Duke, is a cripple, you know, and he is _toqué_ on one point, too--their blue blood. He will never marry, but he can cut Robert off with almost the bare title if he displeases him.” “Yes,” I said. “Torquilstone’s mother was one of the housemaids, the old Duke married her before he was twenty-one, and she fortunately joined her beery ancestors a year or so afterwards, and then, much later, he married Robert’s mother, Lady Ethelrida Fitz Walter--there is sixteen years between them--Robert and Torquilstone, I mean.” “Then what is he _toqué_ about blue blood for, with a _tache_ like that?” I asked. “That is just it. He thinks it is such a disgrace, that even if he were not a humpback, he says he would never marry to transmit this stain to the future Torquilstones--and if Robert ever marries anyone without a pedigree enough to satisfy an Austrian prince, he will disown him, and leave every _sou_ to charity.” “Poor Lord Robert!” I said, but I felt my cheeks burn. “Yes, is it not tiresome for him? So, of course, he cannot marry until his brother’s death; there is almost no one in England suitable.” “It is not so sad after all,” I said, “there is always the delicious _rôle_ of the ‘married woman’s pet’ open to him, isn’t there?” and I laughed. “Little cat!” but she wasn’t angry.