me, I was to find, unexpected
suggestions, not all of which was I prepared on the spot to take up.
"And is Lady John interested in our friend?"

"Not, I suppose, given her situation, so much as he would perhaps
desire. You don't know what her situation _is_?" she went on while I
doubtless appeared to be sunk in innocence. "Isn't it rather marked that
there's only one person she's interested in?"

"One person?" I was thoroughly at sea.

But we had reached with it the great pictured saloon with which I had
proposed to assist her to renew acquaintance and in which two visitors
had anticipated us. "Why, here he is!" she exclaimed as we paused, for
admiration, in the doorway. The high frescoed ceiling arched over a
floor so highly polished that it seemed to reflect the faded pastels
set, in rococo borders, in the walls and constituting the distinction of
the place. Our companions, examining together one of the portraits and
turning their backs, were at the opposite end, and one of them was
Gilbert Long.

I immediately named the other. "Do you mean Ford Obert?"

She gave me, with a laugh, one of her beautiful looks. "Yes!"

It was answer enough for the moment, and the manner of it showed me to
what legend she was committed. I asked myself, while the two men faced
about to meet us, why she was committed to it, and I further considered
that if Grace Brissenden, against every appearance, was right, there
would now be something for me to see. Which of the two--the agent or the
object of the sacrifice--would take most precautions? I kept my
companion purposely, for a little while, on our side of the room,
leaving the others, interested in their observations, to take their time
to join us. It gave me occasion to wonder if the question mightn't be
cleared up on the spot. There _was_ no question, I had compunctiously
made up my mind, for Mrs. Server; but now I should see the proof of that
conclusion. The proof of it would be, between her and her imputed lover,
the absence of anything that was not perfectly natural. Mrs. Server,
with her eyes raised to the painted dome, with response charmed almost
to solemnity in her exquisite face, struck me at this moment, I had to
concede, as more than ever a person to have a lover imputed. The place,
save for its pictures of later date, a triumph of the florid decoration
of two centuries ago, evidently met her special taste, and a kind of
profane piety had dropped on her, drizzling down, in