cle to the doorway. Under
the great maples on the lawn were a tea-table, rugs, and wicker chairs,
and the house itself was furnished by a variety of things of a design not
to be bought in the United States of America: desks, photograph frames,
writing-sets, clocks, paperknives, flower baskets, magazine racks,
cigarette boxes, and dozens of other articles for the duplicates of which
one might have searched Fifth Avenue in vain.

Mr. Crewe was a little late. Important matters, he said, had detained him
at the last moment, and he particularly enjoined Mrs. Pomfret's butler to
listen carefully for the telephone, and twice during lunch it was
announced that Mr. Crewe was wanted. At first he was preoccupied, and
answered absently across the table the questions of the Englishman and
the Austrian about American politics, and talked to the lady of social
prominence on his right not at all; nor to Mrs. Pomfret'--who excused
him. Being a lady of discerning qualities, however, the hostess remarked
that Mr. Crewe's eyes wandered more than once to the far end of the oval
table, where Victoria sat, and even Mrs. Pomfret could not deny the
attraction. Victoria wore a filmy gown of mauve that infinitely became
her, and a shadowy hat which, in the semi-darkness of the dining room,
was a wondrous setting for her shapely head. Twice she caught Mr. Crewe's
look upon her and returned it amusedly from under her lashes,--and once
he could have sworn that she winked perceptibly. What fires she kindled
in his deep nature it is impossible to say.

She had kindled other fires at her side. The tall young Englishman had
lost interest in American politics, had turned his back upon poor Alice
Pomfret, and had forgotten the world in general. Not so the Austrian, who
was on the other side of Alice, and who could not see Victoria. Mr.
Crewe, by his manner and appearance, had impressed him as a person of
importance, and he wanted to know more. Besides, he wished to improve his
English, and Alice had been told to speak French to him. By a lucky
chance, after several blind attempts, he awakened the interest of the
personality.

"I hear you are what they call reform in America?"

This was not the question that opened the gates.

"I don't care much for the word," answered Mr. Crewe, shortly; "I prefer
the word progressive."

Discourse on the word "progressive" by the Austrian almost a monologue.
But he was far from being discouraged.

"And Mrs. Pomfre