lingered anywhere, it was in them.

The door was hardly closed upon the servants when she bent forward.

"Well, have you guessed?"

Sir Wilfrid looked at her thoughtfully as he stirred the sugar in his
coffee.

"I think so," he said. "She is Lady Rose Delaney's daughter."

Lady Henry gave a sudden laugh.

"I hardly expected you to guess! What helped you?"

"First your own hints. Then the strange feeling I had that I had seen
the face, or some face just like it, before. And, lastly, at the Foreign
Office I caught sight, for a moment, of Lord Lackington. That
finished it."

"Ah!" said Lady Henry, with a nod. "Yes, that likeness is extraordinary.
Isn't it amazing that that foolish old man has never perceived it?"

"He knows nothing?"

"Oh, nothing! Nobody does. However, that'll do presently. But Lord
Lackington comes here, mumbles about his music and his water-colors, and
his flirtations--seventy-four, if you please, last birthday!--talks
about himself endlessly to Julie or to me--whoever comes handy--and
never has an inkling, an idea."