"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."

Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
of Banbury.

John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
its falls of snowy laces.

"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
kindness to two strangers."

"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.

"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk