other-in-law; it 's
the only day he ever dines at home in the week."

Lord Culduff bowed an assent, and Marion muttered something that
possibly meant acquiescence.

"I 've made a little dinner for you for Friday," said Lady Augusta to
her sister. "The Culduff s and Monsignore Ratti--that, with Tonino and
ourselves, will be six; and I 'll think of another: we can't be an even
number. Marion is heart-broken about coming; indeed, I 'm not sure we
shall see her, after all."

"Are we so very terrible then?" asked the Countess.

"Not _you_, dearest; it is _I_ am the dreadful one. I took that old
fop a canter into the peerage, and he was so delighted to escape from
Bramleighia, that he looked softly into my eyes, and held my hand so
unnecessarily long, that she became actually sick with anger. Now, I 'm
resolved that the old Lord shall be one of my adorers."

"Oh, Gusta!"

"Yes. I say it calmly and advisedly; that young woman must be taught
better manners than to pat the ground impatiently with her foot and to
toss her head away when one is talking to her husband. Oh, there's that
poor Count Pracontal waiting for me, and looking so piteously at me; I
forgot I promised to take him a tour through the rooms, and tell him who
everybody is."

The company began to thin off soon after midnight, and by one o'clock
the Countess and her sister found themselves standing by a fireplace in
a deserted salon, while the servants passed to and fro extinguishing the
lights.

"Who was that you took leave of with such emphatic courtesy a few
minutes ago?" asked Lady Augusta, as she leaned on the chimney-piece.

"Don't you know; don't you remember him?"

"Not in the least."

"It was Mr. Temple Bramleigh."

"What, _mon fils_ Temple! Why didn't he come and speak to me?"

"He said he had been in search of you all the evening, and even asked me
to find you out."

"These Sevigne curls do that; no one knows me. Monsignore said he
thought I was a younger sister just come out, and was going to warn
me of the dangerous rivalry. And that was Temple? His little bit of
moustache improves him. I suppose they call him good-looking?"

"Very handsome--actually handsome."

"Oh, dear!" sighed the other, wearily; "one likes these gatherings, but
it's always pleasant when they're over; don't you find that?" And not
meeting a reply, she went on: "That tiresome man, Sir Marcus Cluff, made
a descent upon me, to talk of--what do you think?--the churc