n silence till they overtook their companions.

There were several pictures in the neighboring room, and Percival Theory
and his wife had stopped to look at one of them, of which the cicerone
announced the title and the authorship as Benyon came up. It was a
modern portrait of a Bourbon princess, a woman young, fair, handsome,
covered with jewels. Mrs. Percival appeared to be more struck with it
than with anything the palace had yet offered to her sight, while her
sister-in-law walked to the window, which the custodian had opened, to
look out into the garden. Benyon noticed this; he was conscious that
he had given the girl something to reflect upon, and his ears burned a
little as he stood beside Mrs. Percival and looked up, mechanically, at
the royal lady. He already repented a little of what he had said, for,
after all, what was the use? And he hoped the others wouldn't observe
that he had been making love.

"Gracious, Percival! Do you see who she looks like?" Mrs. Theory said to
her husband.

"She looks like a woman who has run up a big bill at Tiffany's," this
gentleman answered.

"She looks like my sister-in-law; the eyes, the mouth, the way the
hair's done,--the whole thing."

"Which do you mean? You have got about a dozen."

"Why, Georgina, of course,--Georgina Roy. She's awfully like."

"Do you call _her_ your sister-in-law?" Percival Theory asked. "You must
want very much to claim her."

"Well, she's handsome enough. You have got to invent some new name,
then. Captain Benyon, what do you call your brother-in-law's second
wife?" Mrs. Percival continued, turning to her neighbor, who still stood
staring at the portrait. At first he had looked without seeing; then
sight, and hearing as well, became quick. They were suddenly peopled
with thrilling recognitions. The Bourbon princess--the eyes, the mouth,
the way the hair was done; these things took on an identity, and the
gaze of the painted face seemed to fasten itself to his own. But who in
the world was Georgina Roy, and what was this talk about sisters-in-law?
He turned to the little lady at his side a countenance unexpectedly
puzzled by the problem she had airily presented to him.

"Your brother-in-law's second wife? That's rather complicated."

"Well, of course, he need n't have married again?" said Mrs. Percival,
with a small sigh.

"Whom did he marry?" asked Benyon, staring.

Percival Theory had turned away. "Oh, if you are going into her
relat