ner couldn't _be_ a
Brightener and tame. She must be brilliant--winged--soaring above the
plane of those she brightens; expensive, to make herself appreciated;
capable of taking the lead in social direction. Why, my dear, people
will fight to get you--pay any price to secure you! _Now_ do you
understand?"

I didn't. So she explained. After that dazzling preface, the explanation
seemed rather an anti-climax. Still, I saw that there might be something
in the plan--if it could be worked. And Mrs. Carstairs guaranteed to
work it.

My widowhood (save the mark!) qualified me to become a chaperon. And my
Princesshood would make me a gilded one. Chaperonage, at its best, might
be amusing. But chaperonage was far from the whole destiny of a
Brightener. A Brightener need not confine herself to female society, as
a mere Companion must. A young woman, even though a widow and a
Princess, could not "companion" a person of the opposite sex, even if he
were a _hundred_. But she might, from a discreet distance, be his
Brightener. That is, she might brighten a lonely man's life without
tarnishing her own reputation.

"After all," Mrs. Carstairs went on, "in spite of what's said against
him, Man _is_ a Fellow Being. If a cat may look at a King, Man may look
at a Princess. And unless he's in her set, he can be made to pay for the
privilege. Think of a lonely button or boot-maker! What would he give
for the honour of invitations to tea, with introductions and social
advice, from the popular Princess di Miramare? He might have a wife or
daughters, or both, who needed a leg up. _They_ would come extra! He
might be a widower--in fact, I've caught the first widower for you
already. But unluckily you can't use him yet."

"Ugh!" I shuddered. "Sounds as if he were a fish--wriggling on a hook
till I'm ready to tear it out of his gills!"

"He is a fish--a big fish. In fact, I may as well break it to you that
he is Roger Fane."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "It would take more electricity than I'm fitted
with to brighten his tragic and mysterious gloom!"

"Not at all. In fact, you are the only one who can brighten it."

"What are you driving at? He's dead in love with Shelagh Leigh."

"That's just _it_. As things are, he has no hope of marrying Shelagh.
She likes him, as you probably know better than I do, for you're her
best pal, although she's a year or so younger than you----"

"Two years."

"Well, as I was going to say, in many ways she