through it, too. She certainly is one of the loveliest women I ever
saw. I suppose you are already convinced that she is entirely
adorable?"

"She has been very kind to me," Arnold replied.

"She would be," Lady Blennington remarked, dryly. "Look at her
husband. The poor man ought to have known better than to have
married her, of course, but do you think that he looks even
reasonably happy?"

Arnold was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. He was conscious
of a strong desire not to discuss his hostess. Yet his curiosity was
immense. He asked one question.

"Tell me," he said, "if she came from this little island in the
Mediterranean, why does she speak English so perfectly?"

"She was educated in England," Lady Blennington told him.
"Afterwards, her brother took her to South America. She had some
small fortune, I believe, but when she came back they were
penniless. They were really living as small market gardeners when
Mr. Weatherley found them."

"You don't like her," he remarked. "I wonder why?"

Lady Blennington shook her head.

"One never knows," she replied. "I admire her, if that is anything."

"But you do not like her," he persisted.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"I am afraid it is true," she agreed.

"You admit that and yet you are willing to be her guest?"

She smiled at him approvingly.

"If there is one masculine quality which I do appreciate," she said,
"it is directness. I come because I love bridge and because I love
my fellow-creatures and because my own friends are none too
numerous. With the exception of those worthy friends of our host and
his wife who are seated upon your right--Mr. and Mrs. Horsman, I
believe they are called--we are all of the same ilk. Mr. Starling no
one knows anything about; Count Sabatini's record is something
awful."

"But there is Rosario," Arnold protested.

"Rosario goes into all the odd corners of the world," she replied.
"Sometimes the corners are respectable and sometimes they are not.
It really doesn't matter so far as he is concerned. Supposing, in
return for all this information, you tell me something about
yourself?"

"There isn't anything to tell," Arnold assured her. "I was asked
here to fill up. I am an employee of Mr. Weatherley's."

She turned in her chair to look at him. Her surprise was obvious.

"Do you mean that you are his secretary, or something of that
sort?" she demanded.

"I am a clerk in his office," Arnold told