u notice," said Madame to me, "that Lucille is in better
spirits?"

"Yes--I notice it with pleasure. Good spirits are for the young--and
the old."

"I suppose you are right," said Madame. "Before the business of life
begins, and after it is over."

Apropos of business, I gave the Vicomtesse at this time an account of
my journey to Audierne, and was able to inform her that I had brought
back money with me sufficient for her present wants.

While I was thus talking I heard, through my own speech, that Isabella
invited the stranger to dine on the following Thursday.

"I have another engagement," he answered, consulting a small
note-book. "But that can be conveniently forgotten."

Isabella seemed to like such exceedingly small social change, for she
smiled brightly as he rose to take his leave.

To the Vicomtesse he paid a pretty little compliment in French,
anticipating much enjoyment on the following Thursday in improving
upon his slight acquaintance. He shook hands with me, his gaze fixed
on my necktie. He then bowed to Lucille and Alphonse, who were talking
together at the end of the room, and made a self-possessed exit.

"Who is your friend?" I asked Isabella bluntly, when the door was
closed.

"A Mr. Devar. Does he interest you?"

There was something in Isabella's tone that betokened a readiness, or
perhaps a desire, to fight Mr. Devar's battles. Had I been a woman, or
wiser than I have ever proved myself, I should, no doubt, have ignored
this challenge instead of promptly meeting it by my answer:

"I cannot say he does."

"You seem to object to him," she said sharply. "Please remember that
he is a friend of mine."

"He cannot be one of long standing," I was foolish enough to answer.
"For he is not an East Country man, and I never heard of him before."

"As a matter of fact," said Isabella, "I met him at a ball in town
last week, and he asked permission to call."

I gave a short laugh, and Isabella looked at me with calm defiance in
her eyes. It was, of course, no business of mine, which knowledge
probably urged me on to further blunders.

Isabella's mental attitude was a puzzle to me. She was ready enough
to supply information respecting Mr. Devar, whose progress towards
intimacy had, to say the least of it, been rapid. But she supplied, as
I thought, from a small store. She alternately allayed and aroused an
anxiety which was natural enough in so old a friend, and to a man who
had moved among ad