she exists. If she's anybody, she'll be there. And _Who's Who_ I always
have with me, abroad. One meets so many pretenders, it's quite
dangerous."

"How can you tell I'm not one?" I asked. "Yet you spoke to me."

"Why, you're down in a kind of invisible book, called 'You're You.' It's
sufficient reference for me. Besides, if your two eyes couldn't be
trusted, it would be easy to shed you."

Lady Kilmarny said this smilingly, as she found the red book, and passed
her finger down the columns of P's.

"Yes, here's the name, and the two addresses on the visiting-card. She's
the Honourable Maria Paget, only daughter of the late Baron Northfield.
Yes, an engagement with her would be safe, if not agreeable. But how to
get you to England?"

"Perhaps I could go as somebody's maid," I reflected aloud.

She looked at me sharply. _"Would_ you do that?"

"It would be better than being an advertisement for Corn Plasters," I
smiled.

"Then," said Lady Kilmarny, "perhaps, after all, I can help you. But
no--I should never dare to suggest it! The thought of a girl like
you--it would be too dreadful."