mperament are always young,' the Count retorted,
glibly, leaning forward and gazing at her. 'Growing old is a foolish
habit of the stupid and the vacant. Men and women of _esprit_ are never
older. One learns as one goes on in life to admire, not the obvious
beauty of mere youth and health'--he glanced across at me
disdainfully--'but the profounder beauty of deep character in a
face--that calm and serene beauty which is imprinted on the brow by
experience of the emotions.'

'I have had my moments,' Lady Georgina murmured, with her head on one
side.

'I believe it, miladi,' the Count answered, and ogled her.

Thenceforward to Dover, they talked together with ceaseless animation.
The Cantankerous Old Lady was capital company. She had a tang in her
tongue, and in the course of ninety minutes she had flayed alive the
greater part of London society, with keen wit and sprightliness. I
laughed against my will at her ill-tempered sallies; they were too funny
not to amuse, in spite of their vitriol. As for the Count, he was
charmed. He talked well himself, too, and between them I almost forgot
the time till we arrived at Dover.

It was a very rough passage. The Count helped us to carry our nineteen
hand-packages and four rugs on board; but I noticed that, fascinated as
she was with him, Lady Georgina resisted his ingenious efforts to gain
possession of her precious jewel-case as she descended the gangway. She
clung to it like grim death, even in the chops of the Channel.
Fortunately I am a good sailor, and when Lady Georgina's sallow cheeks
began to grow pale, I was steady enough to supply her with her shawl and
her smelling-bottle. She fidgeted and worried the whole way over. She
_would_ be treated like a vertebrate animal. Those horrid Belgians had
no right to stick their deck-chairs just in front of her. The
impertinence of the hussies with the bright red hair--a grocer's
daughters, she felt sure--in venturing to come and sit on the same bench
with _her_--the bench 'for ladies only,' under the lee of the funnel!
'Ladies only,' indeed! Did the baggages pretend they considered
themselves ladies? Oh, that placid old gentleman in the episcopal
gaiters was their father, was he? Well, a bishop should bring up his
daughters better, having his children in subjection with all gravity.
Instead of which--'Lois, my smelling-salts!' This was a beastly boat;
such an odour of machinery; they had no decent boats nowadays; with all
our bo