"What a quantity of flowers you have, Philippa! You still retain your
old love."

She took a spray of lilac from one of the vases and held it before him.
Again Lady Peters noted confusion on his face.

"Do you remember the lilac, and what you said about it?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, "I was in Florence last year when they were in
flower, and I never looked at the beautiful blooming trees without
fancying that I saw my cousin's face among the blossoms."

"Why do you call me 'cousin?'" she asked, impatiently.

He looked up in surprise.

"You are my cousin, are you not, Philippa?"

"I am only your second cousin," she said; "and you have never called me
so before."

"I have always called you 'cousin' in my thoughts," he declared. "How
remiss I am!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "You will think that I have
forgotten what little manners I had. I never congratulated you on your
success."

"What success?" she asked, half impatiently.

"I have not been twenty-four hours in London, yet I have heard on all
sides of your charms and conquests. I hear that you are the belle of the