in France were royal and not imperial.
Lady Demolines' rank was not much certainly; but it served to mark
her, and was beneficial.

[Illustration: "I am very glad to have the opportunity
of shaking hands with you."]

As he went downstairs Eames was still thinking of his meeting with
Crosbie, and had as yet hardly said a word to his neighbour, and his
neighbour had not said a word to him. Now Johnny understood dinners
quite well enough to know that in a party of twelve, among whom six
are ladies, everything depends of your next neighbour, and generally
on the next neighbour who specially belongs to you; and as he took
his seat he was a little alarmed as to his prospect for the next two
hours. On his other hand sat Mrs. Ponsonby, the barrister's wife, and
he did not much like the look of Mrs. Ponsonby. She was fat, heavy,
and good-looking; with a broad space between her eyes, and light
smooth hair;--a youthful British matron every inch of her, of whom
any barrister with a young family of children might be proud. Now
Miss Demolines, though she was hardly to be called beautiful, was at
any rate remarkable. She had large, dark, well-shaped eyes, and very
dark hair, which she wore tangled about in an extraordinary manner,
and she had an expressive face,--a face made expressive by the
owner's will. Such power of expression is often attained by dint of
labour,--though it never reaches to the expression of anything in
particular. She was almost sufficiently good-looking to be justified
in considering herself a beauty.

But Miss Demolines, though she had said nothing as yet, knew her game
very well. A lady cannot begin conversation to any good purpose in
the drawing-room, when she is seated and the man is standing;--nor
can she know then how the table may subsequently arrange itself.
Powder may be wasted, and often is wasted, and the spirit rebels
against the necessity of commencing a second enterprise. But Miss
Demolines, when she found herself seated, and perceived that on the
other side of her was Mr. Ponsonby, a married man, commenced her
enterprise at once, and our friend John Eames was immediately aware
that he would have no difficulty as to conversation.

"Don't you like winter dinner-parties?" began Miss Demolines. This
was said just as Johnny was taking his seat, and he had time to
declare that he liked dinner-parties at all periods of the year if
the dinner was good and the people pleasant before the host had