immediately, as if it were something for her to hold on by, that she was
soon to sit to me for a "likeness," and these words gave me a chance to
inquire if it would be the fate of the picture, should I finish it, to
be presented to the young man in the knickerbockers. Her lips, at
this, parted in a stare; her eyes darkened to the purple of one of the
shadow-patches on the sea. She showed for the passing instant the face
of some splendid tragic mask, and I remembered for the inconsequence of
it what Mrs. Meldrum had said about her sight. I had derived from this
lady a worrying impulse to catechise her, but that didn't seem exactly
kind; so I substituted another question, inquired who the pretty young
man in knickerbockers might happen to be.

"Oh, a gentleman I met at Boulogne. He has come over to see me." After a
moment she added: "He's Lord Iffield."

I had never heard of Lord Iffield, but her mention of his having been
at Boulogne helped me to give him a niche. Mrs. Meldrum had incidentally
thrown a certain light on the manners of Mrs. Floyd-Taylor, Flora's
recent hostess in that charming town, a lady who, it appeared, had a
special vocation for helping rich young men to find a use for their
leisure. She had always one or other in hand and she had apparently on
this occasion pointed her lesson at the rare creature on the opposite
coast. I had a vague idea that Boulogne was not a resort of the
aristocracy; at the same time there might very well have been a strong
attraction there even for one of the darlings of fortune. I could
perfectly understand in any case that such a darling should be drawn to
Folkestone by Flora Saunt. But it was not in truth of these things I was
thinking; what was uppermost in my mind was a matter which, though it
had no sort of keeping, insisted just then on coming out.

"Is it true, Miss Saunt," I suddenly demanded, "that you're so
unfortunate as to have had some warning about your beautiful eyes?"

I was startled by the effect of my words; the girl threw back her head,
changing colour from brow to chin. "True? Who in the world says so?"
I repented of my question in a flash; the way she met it made it seem
cruel, and I saw that my mother looked at me in some surprise. I took
care, in answer to Flora's challenge, not to incriminate Mrs. Meldrum.
I answered that the rumour had reached me only in the vaguest form and
that if I had been moved to put it to the test my very real interest in
her