which Miss
Grant by request had given to a bazaar for a Mentone charity. Of course
people like that often were charitable; and in such persons it was more
selfish than generous when you came to think of it, as charity was
supposed to cover a multitude of sins.

Everywhere the engagement was talked of, for it was considered
extraordinary and hardly allowable that an eccentric, sensational sort
of girl about whose early career nobody knew anything should have
"gobbled up" a young man whose name was known throughout Europe. There
were only a few who went about saying that she was worthy of her Prince;
Dick Carleton, who was loyal, though heartbroken; Jim Schuyler, who
wondered always why Mary Grant's face was closely associated in his mind
with his cousin Molly Maxwell's; Major Norwood, who rejoiced that Mary
was appropriated, because the Maharajah of Indorwana would now see the
uselessness of lingering at Monte Carlo; and Captain Hannaford, who said
rather loudly wherever he went that the Roman chap was a d----d lucky
fellow.

The Dauntreys said nothing at all on the subject. If they had opinions
they had ceased to count, for more people every day were dropping even
Lord Dauntrey. There had been a scene at a hotel, where Lady Dauntrey
had struck Miss Collis in the face with her muff, for refusing to bow to
her. A pink paper in London had printed a verse describing the scene,
which everybody saw and talked about and laughed at. The paying guests
all, or almost all, left the Villa Bella Vista after this, and--it was
said--tradesmen were refusing supplies. The servants were gone or going;
Lady Dauntrey had to do her own work or leave it undone; but still Lord
Dauntrey was continually in the Casino, his wife hovering restlessly in
the background. Even the Holbeins gave them up, and Lady Dauntrey was
sometimes seen with the Frenchman who boasted of receiving Miss Grant's
cheques. He was supposed to be introducing amateurs to Lord Dauntrey, as
fresh "victims" for the system.

As for Mary, she was out of the exotic atmosphere of gossip and scandal
and system-mongering. It would have surprised her extremely if she had
been told that whole luncheon parties at villas, and tea-parties at
second-rate hotels, thrived and battened on talk concerning her affairs,
past, present, and to come. She was so happy that she felt often as if
she loved everybody in the world, and longed to make everybody else as
happy, or almost as happy, as