his cousin, General
Frayling, at whose expense he now enjoyed a recuperative sojourn upon the
French Riviera. Some people, in short, have a gift of imposing
themselves, and Marshall Wace may be counted among that conveniently
endowed band.

He imposed himself now upon one at least of his hearers. For, though the
address might seem studied, the voice delivering it was agreeable,
causing Damaris, for the first time, consciously to notice this member of
Mrs. Frayling's retinue. She felt amiably disposed towards him since his
intrusion closed a conversation causing her no little disturbance of
mind. Henrietta's last speech, in particular, set her nerves tingling
with most conflicting emotions. If Henrietta so praised her that praise
must be deserved, for who could be better qualified to give judgment on
such a subject than the perfectly equipped Henrietta? Yet she shrank in
distaste, touched in her maiden modesty and pride, from so frank an
exposition of her own charms. It made her feel unclothed, stripped in the
market-place--so to speak--and shamed. Secretly she had always hoped she
was pretty rather than plain. She loved beauty and therefore naturally
desired to possess it. But to have the fact of that possession thus
baldly stated was another matter. It made her feel unnatural, as though
joined to a creature with whom she was insufficiently acquainted, whose
ways might not be her ways or its thoughts her thoughts. Therefore the
young man, Marshall Wace, coming as a seasonable diversion from these
extremely personal piercings and probings, found greater favour in her
eyes than he otherwise might. And this with results, for Damaris'
gratitude, once engaged, disdained to criticize, invariably tending to
err on the super-generous side.

Yes, they would all have tea out here, if Henrietta was willing. And, if
Henrietta would for the moment excuse her, she would go and order
Hordle--her father's man--to see to the preparation of it himself.
Foreign waiters, whatever their ability in other departments, have no
natural understanding of a tea-pot and are liable to the weirdest ideas of
cutting bread and butter.

With which, conscious she was guilty of somewhat incoherent chatter,
Damaris sprang up and swung away along the terrace, through the clear
tonic radiance, buoyant as a caged bird set free.

"Go with her, Marshall, go with her," Mrs. Frayling imperatively bade
him.

"And leave you, Cousin Henrietta?"

She rose wi