rdly
more fortunate, until the entrees were in full swing, then she unfroze a
little; the elderly gentleman had said something which interested her.

The part which particularly irritated Lord Tancred was that he felt sure
she was not really stupid--who could be stupid with such a face? And he
was quite unaccustomed to being ignored by women. A like experience had
not occurred to him in the whole of his life.

He watched her narrowly. He had never seen so white a skin; the
admirably formed bones of her short, small face caused, even in a side
light, no disfiguring shadows to fall beside the mouth and nose, nor on
the cheeks; all was velvety smooth and rounded. The remote Jewish touch
was invisible--save in the splendor of the eyes and lashes. She filled
him with the desire to touch her, to clasp her tightly in his arms, to
pull down that glorious hair and bury his face in it. And Lord Tancred
was no sensualist, given to instantly appraising the outward charm of
women.

When the grouse was being handed, he did get a whole sentence from her;
it was in answer to his question whether she liked England.

"How can one say--when one does not know?" she said. "I have only been
here once before, when I was quite a child. It seems cold and dark."

"We must persuade you to like it better," he answered, trying to look
into her eyes which she had instantly averted. The expression of
resentment still smoldered there, he had noticed, during their brief
glance.

"Of what consequence whether I like it or no," she said, looking across
the table, and this was difficult to answer! It seemed to set him upon
his beam-ends. He could not very well say because he had suddenly begun
to admire her very much! At this stage he had not decided what he meant
to do.

An unusual excitement was permeating his being; he could not account for
how or why. He had felt no sensation like it, except on one of his lion
hunts in Africa when the news had come into camp that an exceptionally
fine beast had been discovered near and might be stalked on the morrow.
His sporting instincts seemed to be thoroughly awakened.

Meanwhile Countess Shulski had turned once more to Sir Philip Armstrong,
the railway magnate. He was telling her about Canada and she listened
with awakening interest: how there were openings for every one and great
fortunes could be made there by the industrious and persevering.

"It has not come to a point, then, when artists could have