ngs and bracelets and pendants, and flowers and fruit, and
bon-bons and books, because they were given in such a way that it would
have been ungracious to refuse. But the givers were the very women whose
bosom friend she would have liked to seem, in the sight of the world: a
duchess, a countess, or a woman distinguished above her sisters for some
reason.

She worked to gain favour, and when she had any personal triumph without
direct aid from Portman Square, she put on an air of superiority over
Annesley when they met. If she suffered a gentle snub, she hid the smart,
but secretly brooded, blaming Mrs. Nelson Smith because she was asked to
their house only for big parties, or when she was wanted to amuse their
friends.

She blamed Nelson, too; but, womanlike, blamed Annesley more. Sometimes
she determined to put out a claw and draw blood from both, but changed
her mind, remembering that to do them harm she must harm herself.

Once it occurred to her to form a separate, secret alliance with
Constance Annesley-Seton. There were reasons why that might have suited
her, and she began one day to feel her ground when Connie had telephoned,
and had come to her flat for advice from the crystal. She had "seen
things" which she thought Lady Annesley-Seton would like her to see, and
when the seance was ended in a friendly talk, the Countess de Santiago
begged Constance to call her Madalena. "You are my _first_ real friend in
England!" she said.

"Except my cousin Anne," Connie amended, with a sharp glance from the
green-gray eyes to see whether "Madalena" were "working up to anything."

"Oh, I can't count _her_!" said the Countess. "She doesn't like me. She
wouldn't have me come near her if it weren't for her husband. I am quick
to feel things. You, I believe, really _do_ like me a little, so I can
speak freely to you. And you _know_ you can to me."

But Constance, in the slang of her girlhood days, "wasn't taking any."
She was afraid that Madalena was trying to draw her into finding fault
with her host and hostess, in order to repeat what she said, with
embroideries, to Nelson Smith or Annesley. She was not a woman to be
caught by the subtleties of another; and in dread of compromising herself
did the Countess de Santiago an injustice. If she had ventured any
disparaging remarks of "Cousin Anne," they would not have been repeated.

* * * * *

The season began early and brilliantly that year,