ly a month
later, when Miss Cahere's name was announced. He made a grimace and
stood his ground.

Lady Orlay, it may be remembered, was one of those who attempt to
keep their acquaintances in the right place--that is to say, in the
background of her life. With this object in view, she had an "at home"
day, hoping that her acquaintances would come to see her then and not
stay too long. To-day was not that day.

"I know I ought not to have come this afternoon," explained Netty, with
a rather shy haste, as she shook hands. "But I could not wait until next
Tuesday, because we sail that day."

"Then you are going home again?"

Netty turned to greet Deulin, and changed color very prettily.

"Yes," she said, looking from one to the other with the soft blush still
in her cheeks--"yes, and I am engaged to be married."

"Ah!" said Deulin. And his voice meant a great deal, while his eyes said
nothing.

"Do we know the--gentleman?" asked Lady Orlay kindly. She was noting,
with her quick and clever eyes, that Netty seemed happy and was
exquisitely dressed. She was quite ready to be really interested in this
idyl.

"I do not know," answered Netty. "He is not unknown in London. His name
is Burris."

"Oh!" said Lady Orlay, "the comp--" Then she remembered that to call
a fellow-creature a company promoter is practically a libel. "The
millionaire?" she concluded, rather lamely.

"I believe he is very rich," admitted Netty, "though, of course--"

"No, of course not," Lady Orlay hastened to say. "I congratulate you,
and wish you every happiness."

She turned rather abruptly towards Deulin, as if to give the next word
to him. He took it promptly.

"And I," he said, with his old-world bow and deprecatory outspreading of
the hands--"I wish you all the happiness--that money can buy."

Then he walked towards the fireplace, and stood there with his shoulder
turned towards them while the two ladies discussed that which was to be
Netty's future life. Her husband would be old enough to be her father,
but he was a millionaire twice over--in London and New York. He had,
moreover, a house in each of those great cities, of which details
appeared from time to time in the illustrated monthly magazines.

"So I shall hope to be in London every year," said Netty, "and to see
all the friends who have been so kind to us--you and Lord Orlay and Mr.
Deulin."

"And Reginald Cartoner," suggested Deulin, turning to look over his
shoulder for