"You did not see her," said Bertha, "because I wished her to dawn upon you slowly, and, having that end in view, I arranged that Mr. Arbuthnot should occupy her attention when I saw you enter." "He couldn't stand it all at once, could he?" remarked Planefield, whose manner of giving _her_ his attention was certainly not grudging. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, and apparently found entertainment in her most trivial speech. "It was not that, exactly," she answered. Then she spoke to Tredennis. "She is ten times as beautiful as she was," she said, "and it would not be possible to calculate how many times more charming." "That was not necessary," responded Tredennis. He could not remove his own eyes from her face, even while he was resenting the fact that Planefield looked at her; he himself watched her every movement and change of expression. "It was entirely unnecessary," she returned; "but it is the truth." "You are trying to prejudice him against her," said Planefield. "She is my ideal of all that a beautiful woman ought to be," she replied, "and I should like to form myself upon her." "Oh, we don't want any of that," put in Planefield. "You are good enough for us." She turned her attention to him. Her eyes met his with the most ingenuous candor, and yet the little smile in them was too steady not to carry suggestion with it. "Quite?" she said. "Yes, quite," he answered, not so entirely at ease as before. Her little smile did not waver in the least. "Do you know," she said, "it seems almost incredible, but I will try to believe it. Now," she said to Tredennis, "if Senator Planefield will excuse me for a moment, I will take you into the other room. You shall speak to Mrs. Sylvestre. He has already seen her. Will you come?" "I shall be very glad," he answered. He followed as she led him to the adjoining room. On its threshold she paused an instant. "Exactly as I expected," she said. "She is listening to Mr. Arbuthnot." Mr. Arbuthnot was standing at the end of the low mantel. He held a cup of coffee in his hand, but had apparently forgotten it in giving his attention to his very charming companion. This companion was, of course, Mrs. Sylvestre herself. Tredennis recognized her clear, faintly tinted face and light, willowy figure at once. She wore a dress of black lace, with purple passion-flowers, and she was looking at Arbuthnot with reflective eyes, almost the color of the flowers. She did not seem to be talking herself, but she was listening beautifully, with a graceful, receptive attention. Arbuthnot evidently felt it, and was improving his shining hour with a sense of enjoyment tempered by no lack of ability to avail himself of its fleeting pleasure. It is possible, however, that his rapture at seeing Tredennis may have been tempered by the natural weakness of man, but he bore himself with his usual unperturbed equanimity. "There," he remarked to Mrs. Sylvestre, "is the most objectionable creature in Washington."