surprise. Heaven knows what exactly people expected
of him; perhaps the men feared 'side' and the women that he would be
overpowering after so many triumphs, but he was merely a rather pale,
dark, and rather handsome young man. He behaved like anybody else,
except that perhaps his manner was a little quieter than the average.
Unless one was very observant (which one isn't), or unless one listened
to what he said, he did not at first appear too alarmingly clever. He
had one or two characteristics which must have at times led to
misunderstandings. One was that whatever or whoever he looked at, his
dark opaque eyes were so full of vivid expression that women often
mistook for admiration what was often merely observation. For instance,
when he glanced at Lady Walmer she at once became quite confused, and
intensely flattered, nearly blushed and asked him to dinner. While, if
she had but known, behind that dark glance was merely the thought, "So
that's the woman that Royalty ... What extraordinary taste!"

Hereford Vaughan, who was himself thirty-four, did not share in the
modern taste for the battered as a charm in itself, though he could
forgive it--or, indeed, anything else--if he were amused.

Knowing that Miss Luscombe, hoping for a part, would be painfully nice
to Vaughan, Harry had good-naturedly placed them as far apart as
possible. Nevertheless she leaned across the table and said--

"How _do_ you think of all these clever things, Mr. Vaughan? I can't
think how you do it!"

"Yes, indeed, we'd all like to know that," said Captain Foster, the baby
Guardsman, as Valentia called him. He spoke enviously. He was a
perfectly beautiful blond, delightfully stupid, and had been longing for
enough money to marry somebody ever since he was seventeen.

"I'm sure I'd jolly soon write a play if I only knew how."

"It's perfectly easy, really," said Vaughan; "it's just a knack."

"Is it though?"

"That's all."

"How do you get the things taken?"

"Oh, that's a mere fluke--a bit of luck," said Vaughan.

Every one who heard this sighed with relief to think that was how he
regarded it.

Vaughan always used this exaggerated modesty as an armour against envy,
for envy, as a rule, is of success rather than of merit. No one would
have objected to his talent deserving recognition--only to his getting
it.

"Now what do you think of Miss Luscombe?" Valentia asked the dramatist.

"I don't think of her. I never regard people o