reat brewery peerage, and very wealthy. He was a member of
Parliament, and but for Parliamentary duties would have dined there that
evening; but he was to come in later, as soon as he could leave the
House. He also had a house in Hampshire, full of the most beautiful
works of art. It was through their common hobby that her father and
Harry had first made acquaintance.

"We're supposed to have a very fine collection here," she said, with a
motion of her hand.

Aristide looked round the walls and saw them hung with pictures in gold
frames. In those days he had not acquired an extensive culture. Besides,
who having before him the firelight gleaming through Miss Christabel's
hair could waste his time over painted canvas? She noted his cursory
glance.

"I thought you were a connoisseur?"

"I am," said Aristide, his bright eyes fixed on her in frank admiration.

She blushed again; but this time she rose.

"I must go and dress for dinner. Perhaps you would like to be shown your
room?"

He hung his head on one side.

"Have I been too bold, mademoiselle?"

"I don't know," she said. "You see, I've never met a Frenchman before."

"Then a world of undreamed-of homage is at your feet," said he.

A servant ushered him up broad, carpeted staircases into a bedroom such
as he had never seen in his life before. It was all curtains and
hangings and rugs and soft couches and satin quilts and dainty
writing-tables and subdued lights, and a great fire glowed red and
cheerful, and before it hung a clean shirt. His poor little toilet
apparatus was laid on the dressing-table, and (with a tact which he did
not appreciate, for he had, sad to tell, no dress-suit) the servant had
spread his precious frock-coat and spare pair of trousers on the bed. On
the pillow lay his night-shirt, neatly folded.

"Evidently," said Aristide, impressed by these preparations, "it is
expected that I wash myself now and change my clothes, and that I sleep
here for the night. And for all that the ravishing Miss Christabel is
engaged to her honourable Harry, this is none the less a corner of
Paradise."

So Aristide attired himself in his best, which included a white tie and
a pair of nearly new brown boots--a long task, as he found that his
valise had been spirited away and its contents, including the white
tie of ceremony (he had but one), hidden in unexpected drawers and
wardrobes--and eventually went downstairs into the drawing-room. There
he found M