and wholly plumped down again and rubbed away.

"Madame Dor," said Obenreizer, smiling, "is so kind as to keep me free
from stain or tear. Madame Dor humours my weakness for being always
neat, and devotes her time to removing every one of my specks and spots."

Madame Dor, with the stretched glove in the air, and her eyes closely
scrutinizing its palm, discovered a tough spot in Mr. Obenreizer at that
instant, and rubbed hard at him. George Vendale took his seat by the
embroidery-frame (having first taken the fair right hand that his
entrance had checked), and glanced at the gold cross that dipped into the
bodice, with something of the devotion of a pilgrim who had reached his
shrine at last. Obenreizer stood in the middle of the room with his
thumbs in his waistcoat-pockets, and became filmy.

"He was saying down-stairs, Miss Obenreizer," observed Vendale, "that the
world is so small a place, that people cannot escape one another. I have
found it much too large for me since I saw you last."

"Have you travelled so far, then?" she inquired.

"Not so far, for I have only gone back to Switzerland each year; but I
could have wished--and indeed I have wished very often--that the little
world did not afford such opportunities for long escapes as it does. If
it had been less, I might have found my follow-travellers sooner, you
know."

The pretty Marguerite coloured, and very slightly glanced in the
direction of Madame Dor.