hot fire and she stamped her foot. "That's simply
vulgar!" she cried, loud enough for those on the terrace to hear.
"You're vulgar!"

He retreated hastily to the steps that led to the drawing-room, whence
he regarded her with a malevolent scowl. He could have said so much more
to her, so many more wounding things. It was intolerable to be called
"vulgar," when one had controlled one's wrath as he had done.

Meanwhile she, bracing herself for a dignified entree, walked slowly up
the steps, and faced the others who were just about to move off to the
woods.

"Why, I haven't a gun!" she exclaimed, as she joined them.

"Here you are!" said Stephen. "I've brought one for you."

She smiled gratefully at him. "That was thoughtful of you," she said.

And Stephen, feeling somehow that, since her affair with Lord Henry that
morning, Leonetta had gone over at one step to that vast majority of
worldly females who, in his boyish imagination, appeared to him
mistresses of the great secrets of life, blushed slightly and turned his
head away.

CHAPTER XVIII

Sir Joseph, having risen from his post-prandial snooze and found Mrs.
Delarayne, had led that lady to the drawing-room, and was now engaged in
trying to convince her of the general wisdom of all that she had been
hearing from her sister.

"I tell you, my dear Edith," he said, "that I have considerable
difficulty in believing that your Lord Henry is the great man you say he
is."

"Of course you have," she cried. "It is always difficult to believe that
a really great man could ever deign to cross our threshold, much less
shake hands with us! We feel we are too mediocre for that!"

"I don't mean that!" he said, shaking his head helplessly, although he
had not understood her real meaning.

"Joseph,"--Mrs. Delarayne began seriously,--"shall I tell you what it
is? You are jealous."

He laughed uproariously. "Oh, Edith, it takes you to say a thing like
that! Absurd! Absurd!" Then he added seriously. "But really, I have
heard things about Lord Henry that have compelled me to lose my respect
for him."

"Who told you?"

"Denis, for one."

"Denis is jealous too!" cried the widow.

"Now, my dear, do be reasonable! Are we all jealous of Lord Henry then?"

"I should think it most highly probable--yes."

"Well, anyway," Sir Joseph continued, frowning darkly, "Denis assured me
on his oath,--on his oath, understand, that Lord Henry, this son of a
noble marquis, this