Her husband was proud of her in a way--proud of the sparkling beauty, the dainty grace, the mind and manners of the woman he had made his wife. She would never be fast or vulgar, or think only of conquests and admiration, and drag his name through the mire of scandal. No; she would always be _safe_--that he felt, and if he had grown tired of her he was determined that the world should see and admire her, and applaud his choice. It would gratify his vanity, just as it had done in Rome, where she had been courted and worshipped and eulogized everywhere as "Lady Lauraine." The carriage rolls smoothly and swiftly on. Lauraine leans back, with her eyes gazing dreamily out at the lighted streets. Her husband breaks the silence at last. "I want you to be specially civil to Lady Jean," he says abruptly. "You were very stand-offish when she called on you the other day. She's the most popular woman in London, and the prettiest. You two ought to be friends." "I don't like her," answers Lauraine coldly. "Don't like her!" he sneers. "No, of course not. That's just like a woman. The moment a man praises one of your own sex to you, it's quite sufficient reason for you to dislike her. Pray, what's your objection?" Lauraine colours faintly. "She is loud and fast. She ridicules every good and honest feeling, and I think she is very malicious." "The secret of her success perhaps," laughs her husband. "People are afraid of her sharp tongue. _Tant mieux_. But she is at all events a woman one would not get tired of. Few know how to make themselves more agreeable." "To men, perhaps." "Well, that's paying us a great compliment. A woman making herself agreeable to women is taking a great deal of trouble for no purpose unless, of course, they have the _entrée_ where she has not. But Lady Jean goes everywhere." "And Lady Jean's husband?" asks Lauraine. Sir Francis laughs. "Well, one doesn't see much of him certainly. But he's worth nearly a million, for all that. The earl wouldn't have let his daughter marry him if he hadn't been." "Was Lady Jean poor?" "Very poor. The Earl of Killery had six daughters. She was the youngest, and the only one who has married. She's been married six years now." "You knew her before--before----" hesitates Lauraine. "Before I married you? Oh, yes. We were very good friends always. That's why I hope you and she will hit it off. She'll be of great use to you." Lauraine is silent. In her own mind she thinks she shall never be able to "hit it off," as Sir Francis expresses it. She and Lady Jean are totally opposite in many respects, and she has that instinctive antipathy to her which a pure and high-principled woman often conceives for one whose morals are lax, whose nature is coarse, whose views, tastes and opinions are utterly antagonistic to her own.