"My dear Mr. Macjean," she said in answer to the remonstrances of Angus who wanted everyone to like his friend as much as he did himself. "Your friend is a pessimist, and I don't like that class of people; they always take a delight in analysing one's motives, which is disagreeable--to the person concerned. A flower is charming, but those who pull it to pieces in order to find out how it is made--are not. I don't like analysts--they destroy one's illusions." This plain-spoken young lady's chaperone was enjoying an after-dinner nap; the Hon. Henry was talking Irish politics with an Irish M.P., who did not believe in Home Rule out of contradiction to the rest of his countrymen who did. So Victoria Sheldon, feeling in a most delightful humour, was chatting gaily with Otterburn, when they thus chanced on the melancholy Eustace, moralising on the mutability of human life. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Gartney," said Victoria, pausing before him with a gay smile on her lips. "They're not worth it," replied Eustace, looking approvingly at the charming girl before him, in her dainty white dinner dress, with a bunch of vividly scarlet geraniums at her breast. "I'll sell them as bankrupt stock." "Haw! haw! haw!" from the Master, who was in that pleasant frame of mind when everything seems to scintillate with wit--but then it was after dinner, and a pretty woman was at his elbow. Wine, wit, and feminine influence, really the worst-tempered man would feel pleasant with such a delightful trinity. "My dear Master," said Eustace reprovingly, "your mirth is complimentary, but rather noisy--will you not be seated, Miss Sheldon?" "Thank you," replied Victoria, sitting down in a chair under the shadow of a myrtle tree, the light from a distant lamp striking full on her piquant face. "I am rather tired." "Of walking, or the Master?" asked the cynic gruffly. She flashed a brilliant glance on him out of the dusky shadow, and spread her red feather fan with a grand wave of irresistible coquetry. "Mr. Macjean," she said lightly as he sank into a chair opposite to her, and leaned his arms on the cold marble of the table, "What do you think?" "Eh," observed the Master obtusely. "Oh, I think the same as you." "Then," remarked Eustace, re-lighting his cigarette, "you cannot object to that diplomatic reply. Do you mind my smoking?' "Not in the least. I hope Mr. Macjean will follow your example."