The memory of their ill-concealed enmity at Como, and of the circumstances under which, she had parted from Otterburn, all rushed suddenly into Victoria's mind, and she blushed deeply, but with her usual self-command she suppressed all other signs of emotion, as she held out her hand frankly to Eustace. "It's eighteen months since we last saw one another," she said, equably, "and since then, judging from your book, you have been leading a delightfully dangerous life." "More fool he!" muttered Aunt Jelly disdainfully. "And you, Miss Sheldon," said Eustace, taking no notice of the old lady's ill-nature, "what kind of a life have you been leading?" Victoria slipped into a chair, and took off her gloves carelessly, though, truth to tell, her heart was beating somewhat rapidly at this meeting. "Oh, the usual London life!" she replied nonchalantly. "Theatre, Park, Ball, Church--Church, Ball, Park, Theatre. The only change you can get is to reverse them." "You young girls don't know how to enjoy yourselves in a rational way," said Miss Corbin, politely; "you ought to marry and settle down." "That's your advice to everyone, Aunt Jelly," retorted Victoria, her cheeks growing hot; "but you have not practised what you now preach." "Circumstances alter cases, child," returned Aunt Jelly, composedly. "I had my reasons--you, no doubt, would call them ridiculous reasons--but they were good enough for me." Victoria did not know of the old love romance between her father and this faded beauty, or she would never have spoken as she did; but as Miss Corbin, with a softened look in her eyes, bent over her work, she felt vaguely that this sharp-tongued woman had suffered, and touched the withered hand with a pretty gesture of penitence. "I suppose you have quite forgotten Como, Miss Sheldon?" said Eustace, remembering his promise to Otterburn, and artfully trying to find out if she still remembered the boy. "Oh, no! I liked Como very much! The scenery was delightful." She spoke quietly enough, but Eustace was an acute observer of human nature, and his keen ear caught an inflection of a tremor in her voice which considerably guided him in framing his next remark. "Yes, the scenery was charming, was it not?" he remarked significantly; "and the friends we met there also. What a pleasant party we were. The Erringtons, Mrs. Trubbles, yourself and--Macjean." "And what has become of Mr. Macjean?" she asked in a low voice, taking up Aunt Jelly's ball of wool. "Oh, Otterburn is in London." "In London!" she echoed, starting violently. "Dear me, Victoria," said Aunt Jelly, snappishly, "how nervous you are, child! You've upset my wool all over the place." Victoria, glad of an excuse to hide her face, bent down to pick up the ball, and Aunt Jelly, having caught Otterburn's name, went on talking. "Otterburn, eh? I know that name. Wasn't that the young man you flirted with at Como, Victoria?"