quizzical good-humour. He was of rather more than medium height, with
well-poised shoulders; and though a firmness of lips and jaw gave a
suggestion of hardness, the engaging youthfulness of his eyes and a
hearty smile that crinkled the bridge of his nose left a pleasant
impression of frankness, mingled with a certain _naïveté_.

'Mr. Selwyn,' said Lady Durwent, 'I knew you would want to meet some of
London's--I should say some of England's--accomplished people.'

'_Oimè_! I am afraid that obleeterates me,' smiled Madame Carlotti,
whose social charm was rising fast at the sight of a good-looking
stranger.

'No, indeed, Lucia,' effused the hostess. 'To be the personification
of Italy in dreary London is more than an accomplishment; it--it'----

'It is a boon,' said Dunckley, coming to the aid of his floundering
loved one.

'Exactly,' said Lady Durwent with a sigh of relief. 'Madame Lucia
Carlotti--Mr. Selwyn of New York.'

'_Buona sera, signora_.'

'_Buona sera, signore_.'

He stooped low and pressed a light kiss on the Neapolitan's hand, thus
taking the most direct route obtainable by an Anglo-Saxon to the good
graces of a woman of Italy.