thrown a certain light on the manners of Mrs. Floyd-Taylor, Flora's
recent hostess in that charming town, a lady who, it appeared, had a
special vocation for helping rich young men to find a use for their
leisure. She had always one or other in hand and had apparently on this
occasion pointed her lesson at the rare creature on the opposite coast. I
had a vague idea that Boulogne was not a resort of the world's envied; at
the same time there might very well have been a strong attraction there
even for one of the darlings of fortune. I could perfectly understand in
any case that such a darling should be drawn to Folkestone by Flora
Saunt. But it was not in truth of these things I was thinking; what was
uppermost in my mind was a matter which, though it had no sort of
keeping, insisted just then on coming out.

"Is it true, Miss Saunt," I suddenly demanded, "that you're so
unfortunate as to have had some warning about your beautiful eyes?"

I was startled by the effect of my words; the girl threw back her head,
changing colour from brow to chin. "True? Who in the world says so?" I
repented of my question in a flash; the way she met it made it seem
cruel, and I felt my mother look at me in some surprise. I took care, in
answer to Flora's challenge, not to incriminate Mrs. Meldrum. I answered
that the rumour had reached me only in the vaguest form and that if I had
been moved to put it to the test my very real interest in her must be
held responsible. Her blush died away, but a pair of still prettier
tears glistened in its track. "If you ever hear such a thing said again
you can say it's a horrid lie!" I had brought on a commotion deeper than
any I was prepared for; but it was explained in some degree by the next
words she uttered: "I'm happy to say there's nothing the matter with any
part of me whatever, not the least little thing!" She spoke with her
habitual complacency, with triumphant assurance; she smiled again, and I