u
know? She's up to a cigarette herself. I shouldn't stand it," he added,
after a moment, "in--Mademoiselle. Oh, perhaps you haven't heard. She
and I--have fixed it all up, don't you know?"

"Fixed it all up?"

"Engaged, and that sort of thing. I'm a kind of boss in this house now.
I thought, perhaps, that was why you were coming, to hear all about it,
don't you know?"

"Engaged!" cried Sir Tom, with a surprise in which there was no
qualification. He felt disposed to catch the young fellow by the throat
and pitch him out of doors.

"You don't seem over and above pleased," said Montjoie, throwing away
his cigarette, and confronting Sir Tom with a flush of defiance. They
stood looking at each other for a moment, while Antonio, in the
background, watched at the foot of the stairs, not without hopes of a
disturbance.

"I don't suppose that my pleasure or displeasure matters much: but you
will pardon me if I pass, for my visit was to the Contessa," Sir Tom
said, going on quickly. He was in an irritable state of mind to begin
with. He thought he ought to have been consulted, even as an old friend,
much more as---- And the young ass was offensive. If it turned out that
Sir Tom had anything to do with it Montjoie should find that to be the
best _parti_ of the season was not a thing that would infallibly
recommend him to a father at least. The Contessa had risen from her
chair at the sound of the voices. She came forward to Sir Tom with both
her hands extended as he entered the drawing-room. "Dear old friend!
congratulate me. I have accomplished all I wished," she said.

"That was Montjoie," said Sir Tom. He laughed, but not with his usual
laugh. "No great ambition, I am afraid. But," he said, pressing those
delicate hands not as they were used to be pressed, with a hard
seriousness and imperativeness, "you must tell me! I must have an
explanation. There can be no delay or quibbling longer."

"You hurt me, sir," she said with a little cry, and looked at her hands,
"body and mind," she added, with one of her smiles. "Quibbling--that is
one of your English words a woman cannot be expected to understand. Come
then with me, barbarian, into my boudoir."

Bice sat alone somewhat pensively with one of those favourite Tauchnitz
volumes from which she had obtained her knowledge of English life in her
hand. It was contraband, which made it all the dearer to her. She was
not reading, but leaning her chin against it lost in though