“Who,” asked Sir John, when they had passed into the other room, “who is the tall fair girl who was sitting near the fireplace?” He did not seem to think it necessary to ask Lady Cantourne whether she had noticed the object of his curiosity. “I was just wondering,” replied Lady Cantourne, stirring her tea comfortably. “I will find out. She interests me. She is different from the rest.” “And she does not let it be seen--that is what I like,” said Sir John. “The great secret of success in the world is to be different from other people and conceal the fact.” He stood his full height, and looked round with blinking, cynical eyes. “They are all very like each other, and they fail to conceal that.” “I dislike a person,” said Lady Cantourne in her tolerant way, “who looks out of place anywhere. That girl would never look so.” Sir John was still looking round, seeing all that there was to be seen, and much that was not intended for that purpose. “Some of them,” he said, “will look self-conscious in heaven.” “I hope so,” said Lady Cantourne quietly; “that is the least one may expect.” “I trust that there will be no skirt--” Sir John broke off suddenly, with a quick smile. “I was about to be profane,” he said, taking her cup. “But I know you do not like it.” She looked up at him with a wan little smile. She was wondering whether he remembered as well as she did that half an ordinary lifetime lay between that moment and the occasion when she reproved his profanity. “Come,” she said, rising, “take me back to the drawing-room, and I will make somebody introduce me to the girl.” Jocelyn Gordon, sitting near the fire, talking to a white-moustached explorer, and listening good-naturedly to a graphic account of travels which had been put in the background by more recent wanderers, was somewhat astounded when the hostess came up to her a few minutes later, and introduced a stout little lady, with twinkling, kindly eyes, by the name of Lady Cantourne. She had heard vaguely of Lady Cantourne as a society leader of the old school, but had no clue to this obviously intentional introduction. “You are wondering,” said Lady Cantourne, when she had sent the explorer on his travels elsewhere in order that she might have his seat--“you are wondering why I asked to know you.” She looked into the girl's face with bright, searching eyes. “I am afraid I was,” admitted Jocelyn. “I have two reasons: one vulgar--the other sentimental. The vulgar reason was curiosity. I like to know people whose appearance prepossesses me. I am an old woman--no, you need not shake your head, my dear! not with me--I am almost a very old woman, but not quite; and all my life I have trusted in appearances. And,” she paused, studying the lace of her fan, “I suppose I have not made more mistakes than other people. I have always made a point of trying to get to know people whose appearance I like. That is my vulgar reason. You do not mind my saying so--do you?”