"It is a strange mixture of people whom you see here," she said, "a
mixture, perhaps, of the most prosaic and the most romantic. The
Count Sabatini, whom you see talking to my husband, is my brother.
He is a person who lives in the flood of adventures. He has taken
part in five wars, he has been tried more than once for political
offenses. He has been banished from what is really our native
country, Portugal, with a price set upon his head. He has an estate
upon which nothing grows, and a castle with holes in the roof in
which no one could dwell. Yet he lives--oh, yes, he lives!"

Arnold looked across at the man of whom she was speaking--gaunt and
olive-skinned, with deep-set eyes and worn face. He had still some
share of his sister's good looks and he held himself as a man of his
race should.

"I think I should like your brother," Arnold declared. "Will he talk
about his campaigns?"

"Perhaps," she murmured, "although there is one about which you
would not care to hear. He fought with the Boers, but we will not
speak of that. Mr. and Mrs. Horsman there I shall say nothing about.
Imagine for yourself where they belong."

"They are your husband's friends," he decided, unhesitatingly.

"You are a young man of great perceptions," she replied. "I am going
to like you, I am sure. Come, there is Mr. Starling standing by the
door. What do you think of him?"