and my Irish mother removed instantly to Paris--three. By the
way, I have observed that the Irish and the Scotch always run away
from their own countries at the first possible opportunity. Why is
this?"

"It is much pleasanter," I remarked sententiously "to sentimentalise
over the fringes of the United Kingdom from a safe distance, than to
live in them."

"Oh! Let me see, I had got as far as Paris. When I was old enough I
went to a convent school there. I speak French rather better than I do
the Irish-English which my mother taught me."

"You speak English most charmingly. There is about it now a delicate
suggestion, no more, of Ireland. When you first came to me your accent
was distinctly foreign, French or Italian. I am afraid that you are a
wicked woman, a deceiver, and that the fascinating accent was put on
for my subduing. It was a very pretty accent."

"I have found it most effective," said she brazenly.

"When I was eighteen I was married--to an Italian (Guilberti)--four. I
should have become a Catholic, my husband's faith, but for my mother's
Protestant-Irish prejudices. She was of the Irish Church, my husband
of the Roman, so I compromised. I joined the Church of England, the
High Branch."

"Your religion is almost as complicated as your nationality."

"Yes, isn't it?" said she. Her hand was still uplifted; she had paused
at the fourth finger. "We lived in Italy and in France. Two years ago
my husband died, and shortly after the war began my mother died. I had
a little money, I was known to the Embassy in Paris as one who could
pass indifferently as English, or French, or Italian. I wanted to
strike a blow for all my countries, and I was recommended to Mr.
Dawson for"--she looked round carefully, bent her head close to mine,
and whispered--"the Secret Service. So I came for the first time that
I remember to England--five."

"But what are you?" I asked, with knitted brows; "I am not an
international lawyer."

"Mr. Dawson says"--I found that she has a childlike confidence in the
redoubtable Dawson--"that by birth I am a British subject. My Swedish
father doesn't count, as I never adopted Sweden when I came of age. My
domicile before marriage was France, but by marriage I became an
Italian. It is no matter; I am of the Entente, and I do my bit. It is
not a bad bit sometimes."

That was the first of many agreeable tea-drinkings which Madame
Gilbert and I took together.

Madame Gilbert believes hersel