Mrs. Hamblin's character was not easily to be fathomed by such a superficial observer as Spiridion Pratt; and when she quitted the Villa after the interview in which her quondam admirer had suffered his secret to be so easily extracted from him, however calm she appeared outwardly, she was inwardly raging with spite and jealousy. Not that she particularly regretted the loss of Spiridion as an admirer. She had originally conceived the idea of allowing him to pay her attention at a time when the publication of his book of poems had given him a little temporary popularity amongst people in society, and when, consequently, many women of a certain class would have been glad to have entangled the lion in their net; and once entangled, Mr. Pratt was one of those tea-table Lovelaces whose romantic outpourings in private, and perpetual attentions in public, are so agreeable to some women. Mrs. Hamblin, however, who in far-seeing appreciation was in advance of the generality of her sex, had long since become somewhat weary of her adorer's inanity, and had more than once meditated on the desirability of giving him his _congé_; when, however, she discovered that the man of whom she thought it would be difficult to rid herself had actually transferred his devotion to another shrine, she was furious; and though she cared nothing at all about him for herself, she determined as far as possible to thwart his plans with regard to Eleanor Irvine solely to gratify her revenge. Whirling away from the Villa, Mrs. Hamblin lay back in her brougham, pondering how her purpose could best be accomplished.