l do nothing of the
sort."

"I wish, my dear, you would be less positive. How can you know what I
meant to say? Of _what_ sort?"

"Reconsidering Adrian. Jilting him, in fact!"

"How can you know that?"

"Because you said it would not be any use talking to me about it. Just
before you stopped looking out of the window, and said you might as well
go."

Driven to bay, the Countess had a sudden _acces_ of argumentative power.
"Is there nothing it would be no use to talk to you about except this
mad love-affair of yours?"

"Nothing so big. This is the big one. Besides, you know you did mean
Adrian." As her ladyship did, she held her tongue.

Presently, having in the meantime resumed her seat, thereby admitting
that her daughter was substantially right, she went on to what might be
considered official publication.

"Your father and I, my dear, have had a good deal of talk about this
unfortunate affair...."

"What unfortunate affair?"

"This unfortunate ... love-affair."

"Cousin Percy and Aunt Constance?"

"My dear! How can you be so ridiculous? Of course I am referring to you
and Mr. Torrens."

"To me and Adrian. Precisely what I said, mamma dear! So now we can go
on." The young lady managed somehow to express, by seating herself
negligently on a chair with its back to her mother, that she meant to
pay no attention whatever to any maternal precept. She could look at her
over it, to comply with her duties as a respectful listener. But not to
overdo them, she could play the treble of Haydn's Gipsy Rondo on the
chair back with fingers that would have put a finishing touch on the
exasperation of Helen of Troy.

Her ladyship continued:--"We are speaking of the same thing. Your father
and I have had several conversations about it. As I was saying when you
interrupted me--pray do not do so again!--he agrees with me _entirely_.
In fact, he told me of his own accord that he wished you to come away
with me for six months.... Yes--six! Three's ridiculous.... And that it
should be quite distinctly understood that no binding engagement exists
between Mr. Torrens and yourself."

"All right. I've no objection to anything being distinctly understood,
so long as it is also distinctly understood that it doesn't make a
particle of difference to either of us.... Yes--come in! Put them on the
writing-table." This was to Miss Lutwyche, who came in, bearing letters.

"To either of you! You answer for Mr. Torrens, my dear, wit