But why do you call him Jack? He is known to fame
as Elton Gwynne."

"His name is John Elton Cecil Gwynne. We are given to the nickname these
days--to the abbreviation in general."

They were walking down a corridor, and Miss Thangue was peering through
her lorgnette at the cards on the doors.

"I know you are on this side. I wrote your name myself. But exactly
where--ah, here it is."

She opened the door of a square room with large roses on the white
wall-paper, and fine old mahogany furniture. The sofa and chairs and
windows were covered with a chintz in harmony with the walls. "It is
cheerful, don't you think so?" asked Miss Thangue, drawing one of the
straight curtains aside. "Vicky had all the rooms done over, and I chose
the designs. She is quite intolerantly modern, and holds that when
wall-paper and chintz can save an old house from looking like a
sarcophagus, why not have them? That bell-cord connects with your maid's
room--"

"I have no maid. I am not well off at all. I wonder Lady Victoria
thought it worth while to ask me down."

"Dear me, how odd! May I sit with you a little while? I never before saw
a poor American girl."

"I'll be only too grateful if you will stay with me as long as you can.
I am not exactly poor. I have a ranch near Rosewater, some property and
an old house in San Francisco. All that makes me comfortable, but no
more; and there are so many terribly rich American girls!"

"There are, indeed!" Miss Thangue sat forward with the frank curiosity
of the Englishwoman when inspecting a foreign specimen. But her
curiosity was kindly, for she was still a girl at heart, interested in
other girls. Miss Otis, looking at her blond, virginal face, took for
granted that she was under thirty, and owed her weight to a fondness for
sweets and sauces.

"How can you travel in Europe if you are not rich?" demanded Flora. "I
never dare venture over except as the guest of some more fortunate
friend."

"Are _you_ poor?" asked Miss Otis, her eye arrested by the smart little
afternoon frock of lace and chiffon and crepe-de-chine.

"Oh, horribly. But then we all are, over here. If it were not for the
Jews and the Americans we'd have to make our own clothes. The
dressmakers never could afford to give us credit."

"They all looked very wealthy down-stairs."

"Smart, rather. This happens to be a set that knows how to dress. Many
don't. You know something of it yourself," she added, with a frank
surve