d put them on," remarked "Miss Wardrobe." "But I do feel so--well,
undressed almost, without my rings; don't you?"

"I haven't any," Mary confessed.

"Why--don't you like rings?"

"Yes, on other people. I love jewels. But for myself, I've never thought
of having any--yet."

"I've thought more about it than about anything else," remarked the
girl, smiling a broad, flat smile that showed beautiful white teeth. She
looked curiously unintelligent when she smiled.

"Perhaps I shall begin thinking more about it now."

"That sounds interesting. What will start your mind to working on the
subject? Looking at my rings?" She had an odd, persistent accent which
irritated Mary's ears. If it was like anything the convent-bred girl had
heard, it resembled the accent of a housemaid who "did" her bedroom in
Cromwell Road. This maid had said that she was a London girl. And
somehow Mary imagined that, if she had rings, she would like taking them
out of a gold bag and putting them on at the dinner-table. Because Mary
had never had for a companion any girl or woman not a lady, she did not
know how to account for peculiarities which would not have puzzled one
more experienced.

"Perhaps," she answered, smiling.

"Maybe you mean to win a lot of money at Monte, and buy some?"

"At Monte--does that mean Monte Carlo? Oh, no, I'm going to Florence.
But some money has been left to me lately, so I can do and have things I
shouldn't have thought of before." Mary explained all this frankly, yet
without any real wish to talk of her own affairs.

The four others of the party were at a table opposite; and as there was
a moment's lull in the rush of waiters and clatter of plates for a
change of courses, now and then a few words of conversation at one table
reached another. As Mary mentioned the legacy Lady Dauntrey suddenly
flashed a glance at her, and though the long pale eyes were turned away
immediately, she had the air of listening to catch the rest of the
sentence. By this time the little quarrel over "Miss Wardrobe's" name
had apparently been forgotten. The five were on good terms, and talked
to each other across the gangway. Again the title of the two leading
members of the party was called out conspicuously, and people at other
tables turned their heads or stretched their necks to look at this party
who advertised the "jolly time" they were having. They chattered about
"Monte," and about celebrities supposed to have arrived there alre