olfer is a happy man?"

As he put this significant question, which explained his remark about
the vanity of human wishes, Nell looked at the earl. He was apparently
listening to the duchess by his side; but his eyes, under their
straight, dark brows, were fixed upon his wife, who, leaning forward
slightly, was listening with downcast eyes and a smile to Sir Archie, a
few chairs from her.

Nell flushed.

"N-o, I don't know," she said, rather confusedly. "Lord Wolfer has so
much on his mind--politics, and----He is nearly always at work; he is
often in his study writing until early morning."

Sir Charles looked at her quickly.

"You know them very well. You are staying here?" he asked.

"I live here," said Nell simply. "I am what Sir Archie Walbrooke calls
'general utility.' Lady Wolfer has so much to do, and I help her keep
house, or try and persuade myself that I do."

Sir Charles was too much a man of the world to be discomfited; but he
laughed a little ruefully as he said:

"That serves me right for discussing people with a lady with whom I
haven't the honor and pleasure of an acquaintance. It reminds me of that
very old story of the man at the evening party, which you no doubt
remember."

"No; I've heard so few stories, old or new," said Nell, smiling. "Please
tell it me."

"I will if you'll tell me your name in exchange; mine is Fletcher, but I
am usually called Sir Charles because Mr. Gresham honors me with his
close friendship. 'Charles, his friend,' as they used to put it in the
old play books, you know."

"I see; and my name is Lorton, Eleanor Lorton, commonly called Nell
Lorton--because I have a brother. And the story?"

Sir Charles laughed.

"Oh, it's too old; but, old as it is, I had forgotten to take its moral
to heart. A man was leaning against the wall, yawning, at an evening
party. He was fearfully bored, for he knew scarcely any one there, and
had been brought at the last moment by a friend. As he was making up his
mind to cut it, another man came and leaned against the wall beside him
and yawned, also. Said the first: 'Awful slow, isn't it?' 'Yes,' replied
Number Two, 'frightful crush and beastly hot.' 'Dreadful. I could stand
it a little longer if that woman at the piano would leave off squalling.
Come round to my club, and let us get a drink and a smoke.' 'Nothing
would give me more pleasure! Wish I could!' replied Number Two. 'But you
see, unfortunately for me, this is my house, and t