ngham Palace. He's going to show me over it, so that I may get
some idea how they live."

"Ah," said Ralph, "we leave you in good hands. The first thing we shall
hear is that you're invited to Windsor Castle."

"If they ask me, I shall certainly go. Once I get started I'm not
afraid. But for all that," Henrietta added in a moment, "I'm not
satisfied; I'm not at peace about Isabel."

"What is her last misdemeanour?"

"Well, I've told you before, and I suppose there's no harm in my going
on. I always finish a subject that I take up. Mr. Goodwood was here last
night."

Ralph opened his eyes; he even blushed a little--his blush being
the sign of an emotion somewhat acute. He remembered that Isabel, in
separating from him in Winchester Square, had repudiated his suggestion
that her motive in doing so was the expectation of a visitor at Pratt's
Hotel, and it was a new pang to him to have to suspect her of duplicity.
On the other hand, he quickly said to himself, what concern was it of
his that she should have made an appointment with a lover? Had it not
been thought graceful in every age that young ladies should make a
mystery of such appointments? Ralph gave Miss Stackpole a diplomatic
answer. "I should have thought that, with the views you expressed to me
the other day, this would satisfy you perfectly."

"That he should come to see her? That was very well, as far as it went.
It was a little plot of mine; I let him know that we were in London, and
when it had been arranged that I should spend the evening out I sent him
a word--the word we just utter to the 'wise.' I hoped he would find her
alone; I won't pretend I didn't hope that you'd be out of the way. He
came to see her, but he might as well have stayed away."

"Isabel was cruel?"--and Ralph's face lighted with the relief of his
cousin's not having shown duplicity.

"I don't exactly know what passed between them. But she gave him no
satisfaction--she sent him back to America."

"Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph sighed.

"Her only idea seems to be to get rid of him," Henrietta went on.

"Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph repeated. The exclamation, it must be
confessed, was automatic; it failed exactly to express his thoughts,
which were taking another line.

"You don't say that as if you felt it. I don't believe you care."

"Ah," said Ralph, "you must remember that I don't know this interesting
young man--that I've never seen him."

"Well, I shall see him, and I shall