Mrs. Ellerwood turned round in her seat and surveyed the room. They had
almost come to the end of dinner, and could move their chairs a little.
She had the true Englishwoman's feeling when among foreigners--that they
were all there as puppets for her entertainment.

"Look, Hector," she said--they were cousins--"did you ever see such a
lovely woman as that one over there among the large party, in the black
chiffon dress?"

Then Hector committed a _bêtise_.

"Where?" said he, his eyes persistently fixed in another direction.

"There; you can't mistake her, she looks so pure white, and fair, among
all these Frenchwomen The one with the blue eyes and the lovely hat
with those sweeping feathers. She is exquisitely dressed, and both those
men look fearfully devoted to her. Can't you see? Oh, you are stupid!"

"My dear Monica," said Jack Ellerwood, who joined rarely in the
conversation, "Hector has been sitting facing this way all through
dinner. He is a man who can appreciate what he sees, and I do not fancy
has missed much--have you, Hector?" and he smiled a quiet smile.

Mrs. Ellerwood looked at Lord Bracondale and laughed.

"It is I who am stupid," she said. "Naturally you have seen her all the
time, and know her probably. Are they cocottes, or Americans, or Russian
princesses, or what?--the whole collection?"