For the time being she raised her eyes and looked into Lord
Bracondale's, and something told her they were the nicest eyes she had
ever seen in this world.

Then when a voluble French count had rushed up, with garrulous apologies
for being late, the party was complete, and they swept into the
restaurant.

Theodora sat between the Western millionaire and the Russian Prince, but
beyond--it was a round table, only just big enough to hold them--came
her hostess and Lord Bracondale, and two or three times at dinner they
spoke, and very often she felt his eyes fixed upon her.

Mrs. McBride, like all American widows, was an admirable hostess; the
conversation never flagged, or the gayety for one moment.

The Western millionaire was shrewd, and announced some quaint truths
while he picked his teeth with an audible sound.

"This is his first visit to Europe," Princess Worrzoff said afterwards
to Theodora by way of explanation. "He is so colossally rich he don't
need to worry about such things at his time of life; but it does make me
turn to hear him."

Captain Fitzgerald was in his element. No guest shone so brilliantly as
he. His wit was delicate, his sallies were daring, his looks were
insinuating, and his appearance was perfection.

Theodora had every reason to tingle with pride in him, and the widow