him? "Knows how to
fetch the women, doesn't he?" said somebody with a laugh. To be accused
of that knowledge is not a passport to the admiration of men.

Before May Gaston came near Quisante himself, Jimmy Benyon seized on her
and introduced her to Aunt Maria. In reply to politely expressed phrases
of concern the old lady's shrewd eyes twinkled.

"Sandro'll soon come round, if they let him alone," she said.

The words were consistent with either view of the occurrence, but the
tone inclined them to the side of uncharitableness.

"Is he liable to such attacks?" May asked.

"He's always been rather sickly," Miss Quisante admitted grudgingly.

"He's had a splendid triumph to-night. He was magnificent."

"Sandro makes the most of a chance."

May was surprised to find herself attracted to the dry old woman. Such an
absence of feeling in regard to one who was her only relative and the
hero of the evening might more naturally have aroused dislike; but Aunt
Maria's coolness was funnily touched both by resignation and by humour;
she mourned that things were as they were, but did not object to laughing
at them. When immaculate Jimmy, a splendid type of the handsome dandified
man about town, began to be enthusiastic over Quisante, she looked up at
him with a sneering kindly smile, seeming to ask, "How in the world do
you come to be mixed up with Sandro?" When May expressed the hope that he
would be more careful of himself Aunt Maria's smile said, "If you knew as
much about him as I do, you'd take it quietly. It's Sandro's way." Yet
side by side with all this was the utter absence of any surprise at his
exhibition of power or at the triumph he had won; these she seemed to
take as the merest matter of course. She knew Quisante better than any
living being knew him, and this was her attitude towards him. When they
bade one another good-bye, May said that she was sure her mother would
like to call on Miss Quisante. "Come yourself," said the old lady
abruptly; she at least showed no oiliness, no violence of varnish; they
were not in the family, it seemed.

The crowd grew thinner, but the diminished publicity brought no
improvement to Quisante's manner. He was with Lady Richard and the
brothers now--May noticed that nephew and aunt had been content to
exchange careless nods--and Lady Richard made him nearly his worst. He
knew that she did not like him, but refused to accept the defeat; he
plied her more and more freely with th