Russians; and he must be one of something of that sort. He has no
apparent touch of the Latin race. It's Latins I don't like."

"Well, I shall probably hear all about it from Ethelrida herself, now
that we are alone. I am so glad I decided to stay with the dear girl
until Wednesday, and you will have to wait till then, too, Crow."

"As ever, I am at your orders," he grunted, and lighting a cigar, he
subsided into a great chair to read the papers, while Lady Anningford
went on to the saloon. And presently, when all the departing guests
were gone, Ethelrida linked her arm in that of her dear friend, and drew
her with her up to her sitting-room.

"I have heaps to tell you, Anne!" she said, while she pushed her gently
into a big low chair, and herself sank into the corner of her sofa.
Ethelrida was not a person who curled up among pillows, or sat on rugs,
or little stools. All her movements, even in her most intimate moments
of affection with her friend, were dignified and reserved.

"Darling, I am thrilled," Lady Anningford responded, "and I guess it is
all about Mr. Markrute--and oh, Ethelrida, when did it begin?"

"He has been thinking of me for a long time, Anne--quite eighteen
months--but I--" she looked down, while a tender light grew in her face,
"I only began to be interested the night we dined with him--it is a
little more than a fortnight ago--the dinner for Tristram's engagement.
He said a number of things not like any one else, then, and he made me
think of him afterwards--and I saw him again at the wedding--and since
he has been here--and do you know, Anne, I have never loved any one
before in my life!"