Yes, at the first glance, the young man decided that she fully deserved his friend's somewhat extravagant praise. If everybody in London was not raving over her, it was simply due to the fact that her cousin's circle was not important, and that she had found nobody of sufficient social influence to launch her with the necessary _cachet_. If she had made her _debut_ at one of the great houses, stamped with the approval of any one of London's distinguished hostesses, Society journals would have gone into rhapsodies over her, and she would have been one of the reigning beauties of the hour, far, far beyond the aspirations of little Tommy Esmond. His own special taste rather inclined towards fair women, his cousin, Lady Nina, of whom he was very fond, being a charming specimen of that type. But he was no bigot in the matter of feminine beauty, and he was prepared to admit that there were some dark women who could compare favourably with their blonde sisters. But Stella Keane was not very dark. She had soft brown eyes, glossy dark hair, and a beautiful creamy complexion, a mouth like Cupid's bow, revealing when she smiled, teeth of a dazzling ivory. Her figure would have been pronounced perfect by the most critical and fastidious artist. "What do you think of her?" asked the delighted Tommy, after he had given his friend a decent time for his inspection. Tommy was a man whose friends had got into the habit of smiling at him, even when they agreed with him. Spencer smiled at him quite as often as any of his acquaintance, but at this moment he was perfectly grave. "You are quite right, old man, this time," he said quietly. "She is really beautiful, and her carriage is splendid. She looks like a young Empress--or, rather, she fulfils one's idea of what a young Empress should be." Tommy beamed. He drank in the words of unstinted praise like wine. The little blue eyes, usually devoid of expression, seemed suffused with a soft emotion. There was something pathetic in his devotion to this radiant young woman who looked like a youthful Empress. "And she is as good and sweet as she looks," he murmured in a voice that he could not keep steady. "When she talks to you seriously and lets you know what she really thinks and feels, by gad, Spencer, it makes a battered old worldling like myself feel unworthy to be in her presence. For she has a beautiful soul and mind as well as a beautiful body." Spencer could only look sympathetic. Poor little Tommy, he certainly seemed to talk like a lover. And what did Miss Keane think of it all? She must have more than a mere tolerance for him, or she would not have allowed him those peeps into her mind and soul to which he alluded with such unrestrained rapture.