back. 'Lois,
my child, don't stare'--she had covenanted from the first to call me
Lois, as my father's daughter, and I confess I preferred it to being
Miss Cayley'd. 'We must surely have met. Dare I ask your name,
monsieur?'

I could see the foreign gentleman was delighted at this turn. He had
played for it, and carried his point. He meant her to ask him. He had a
card in his pocket, conveniently close; and he handed it across to her.
She read it, and passed it on: 'M. le Comte de Laroche-sur-Loiret.'

'Oh, I remember your name well,' the Cantankerous Old Lady broke in. 'I
think you knew my husband, Sir Evelyn Fawley, and my father, Lord
Kynaston.'

The Count looked profoundly surprised and delighted. 'What! you are then
Lady Georgina Fawley!' he cried, striking an attitude. 'Indeed, miladi,
your admirable husband was one of the very first to exert his influence
in my favour at Vienna. Do I recall him, _ce cher_ Sir Evelyn? If I
recall him! What a fortunate rencounter! I must have seen you some years
ago at Vienna, miladi, though I had not then the great pleasure of
making your acquaintance. But your face had impressed itself on my
sub-conscious self!' (I did not learn till later that the esoteric
doctrine of the sub-conscious self was Lady Georgina's favourite hobby.)
'The moment chance led me to this carriage this morning, I said to
myself, "That face, those features: so vivid, so striking: I have seen
them somewhere. With what do I connect them in the recesses of my
memory? A high-born family; genius; rank; the diplomatic service; some
unnameable charm; some faint touch of eccentricity. Ha! I have it.
Vienna, a carriage with footmen in red livery, a noble presence, a crowd
of wits--poets, artists, politicians--pressing eagerly round the
landau." That was my mental picture as I sat and confronted you: I
understand it all now; this is Lady Georgina Fawley!'

I thought the Cantankerous Old Lady, who was a shrewd person in her way,
must surely see through this obvious patter; but I had under-estimated
the average human capacity for swallowing flattery. Instead of
dismissing his fulsome nonsense with a contemptuous smile, Lady
Georgina perked herself up with a conscious air of coquetry, and asked
for more. 'Yes, they were delightful days in Vienna,' she said,
simpering; 'I was young then, Count; I enjoyed life with a zest.'

[Illustration: PERSONS OF MILADI'S TEMPERAMENT ARE ALWAYS YOUNG.]

'Persons of miladi's te