"And she?"

"Oh, _she_ knows. I should rather think she does." And Lady Henry pushed
away her coffee-cup with the ill-suppressed vehemence which any mention
of her companion seemed to produce in her. "Well, now, I suppose you'd
like to hear the story."

"Wait a minute. It'll surprise you to hear that I not only knew this
lady's mother and father, but that I've seen her, herself, before."

"You?" Lady Henry looked incredulous.

"I never told you of my visit to that _ménage_, four-and-twenty years
ago?"

"Never, that I remember. But if you had I should have forgotten. What
did they matter to me then? I myself only saw Lady Rose once, so far as
I remember, before she misconducted herself. And afterwards--well, one
doesn't trouble one's self about the women that have gone under."

Something lightened behind Sir Wilfrid's straw-colored lashes. He bent
over his coffee-cup and daintily knocked off the end of his cigarette
with a beringed little finger.

"The women who have--not been able to pull up?"

Lady Henry paused.

"If you like to put it so," she said, at last. Sir Wilfrid did not raise