omantic. The
Count Sabatini, whom you see talking to my husband, is my brother.
He is a person who lives in the flood of adventures. He has taken
part in five wars, he has been tried more than once for political
offenses. He has been banished from what is really our native
country, Portugal, with a price set upon his head. He has an estate
upon which nothing grows, and a castle with holes in the roof in
which no one could dwell. Yet he lives--oh, yes, he lives!"

Arnold looked across at the man of whom she was speaking--gaunt and
olive-skinned, with deep-set eyes and worn face. He had still some
share of his sister's good looks and he held himself as a man of his
race should.

"I think I should like your brother," Arnold declared. "Will he talk
about his campaigns?"

"Perhaps," she murmured, "although there is one about which you
would not care to hear. He fought with the Boers, but we will not
speak of that. Mr. and Mrs. Horsman there I shall say nothing about.
Imagine for yourself where they belong."

"They are your husband's friends," he decided, unhesitatingly.

"You are a young man of great perceptions," she replied. "I am going
to like you, I am sure. Come, there is Mr. Starling standing by the
door. What do you think of him?"

Arnold glanced across the room. Mr. Starling was apparently a
middle-aged man--clean-shaven, with pale cheeks and somewhat narrow
eyes.

"An American, without a doubt," Arnold remarked.

"Quite right. Now the lady in the gray satin with the wonderful
coiffure--she has looked at you already more than once. Her name is
Lady Blennington, and she is always trying to discover new young
men."

Arnold glanced at her deliberately and back again at his hostess.

"There is nothing for me to say about her," he declared.

"You are wonderful," she murmured. "That is so exactly what one
feels about Lady Blennington. Then there is Lady Templeton--that
fluffy little thing behind my husband. She looks rather as though
she had come out of a toy shop, does she not?"

"She looks nice," Arnold admitted. "I knew--"

She glanced up at him and waited. Arnold, however, had stopped
short.

"You have not yet told me," he said, "the name of the man who stands
alone near the door--the one with the little piece of red ribbon in
his coat?"

It seemed to him that, for some reason, the presence of that
particular person affected her. He was a plump little man, sleek and
well-dressed, with black hair,