"Lady Westmere sent them to me from Rome last Christmas. She is very
much interested in the American artist who did them. They are all
sketches made about the Villa d'Este, you see. He painted that group of
cypresses for the Salon, and it was bought for the Luxembourg."

Alexander walked over to the bookcases. "It's the air of the whole place
here that I like. You haven't got anything that doesn't belong. Seems to
me it looks particularly well to-night. And you have so many flowers. I
like these little yellow irises."

"Rooms always look better by lamplight--in London, at least. Though
Marie is clean--really clean, as the French are. Why do you look at the
flowers so critically? Marie got them all fresh in Covent Garden market
yesterday morning."

"I'm glad," said Alexander simply. "I can't tell you how glad I am to
have you so pretty and comfortable here, and to hear every one saying
such nice things about you. You've got awfully nice friends," he added
humbly, picking up a little jade elephant from her desk. "Those fellows
are all very loyal, even Mainhall. They don't talk of any one else as
they do of you."

Hilda sat down on the couch and said seriously: "I've a neat little sum
in the bank, too, now, and I own a mite of a hut in Galway. It's not
worth much, but I love it. I've managed to save something every year,
and that with helping my three sisters now and then, and tiding poor
Cousin Mike over bad seasons. He's that gifted, you know, but he will
drink and loses more good engagements than other fellows ever get. And
I've traveled a bit, too."

Marie opened the door and smilingly announced that dinner was served.

"My dining-room," Hilda explained, as she led the way, "is the tiniest
place you have ever seen."

It was a tiny room, hung all round with French prints, above which ran a
shelf full of china. Hilda saw Alexander look up at it.

"It's not particularly rare," she said, "but some of it was my
mother's. Heaven knows how she managed to keep it whole, through all our
wanderings, or in what baskets and bundles and theatre trunks it hasn't
been stowed away. We always had our tea out of those blue cups when I
was a little girl, sometimes in the queerest lodgings, and sometimes on
a trunk at the theatre--queer theatres, for that matter."

It was a wonderful little dinner. There was watercress soup, and sole,
and a delightful omelette stuffed with mushrooms and truffles, and two
small rare ducklings,