? Who can she be?"

Miss Briggs looked carelessly round, and at once understood the reason
of Lady Sellingworth's remarks. "The man" was before her, and she knew
it. How? She could not have said. Had she been asked she would probably
have replied: "My bones told me."

"Oh," she said, after the look. "She's the type of old woman who is born
and brought up in Brazil, and who, when she is faded, comes to European
spas for her health. I have met many of her type at Aix and Baden
Baden."

"Ah!" replied Lady Sellingworth carelessly. "You don't know her then?"

"No. But I have seen her two or three times within the last few
months--three times to be exact. Twice she has travelled in the same
train as I was in, though not in the same compartment, and once I saw
her dining here. Each time she was with that marvelously handsome young
man. I really noticed her--don't blame me--because of him."

"Perhaps he's her son."

"He may be her husband."

"Oh--but the difference in their ages! She must be seventy at least, if
not more."

"She may be very rich, too," said Miss Briggs dryly.

Lady Sellingworth remembered that it was always said that Miss Briggs's
enormous fortune had kept her a spinster. She was generally supposed to
be one of those unfortunately cynical millionairesses who are unable to
believe in man's disinterested affection.

"Shall we go?" said Lady Sellingworth.

Miss Briggs assented, and they left the restaurant.

They spent the afternoon together at a matinee at the Opera Comique, and
afterwards Miss Briggs came to tea at Lady Sellingworth's apartment.
Not another word had been said about the two strangers, but Lady
Sellingworth fully realized that Caroline Briggs had found her out. When
her friend finally got up to go she asked Lady Sellingworth how long she
intended to stay in Paris.

"Oh, only a day or two," Lady Sellingworth said. "I've got to see two or
three dressmakers. Then I shall be off. I haven't told anyone that I am
here. It didn't seem worth while."

"And you won't be dull all alone?"

"Oh, no, I am never dull. I love two or three days of complete rest
now and then. One isn't made of cast iron, although some people seem to
think one is, or at ay rate ought to be."

There was a tired sound in her voice as she said this, and Miss Briggs's
small and sharp, but kind, eyes examined her face rather critically. But
Miss Briggs only said:

"Come and dine with me to-morrow night in my house.