flawlessly white; and such golden-red hair with dark eyes and eyebrows
must be unique.

"Great Scott, I thought she meant to spend the morning with us!" Smith
broke out, viciously. "I realize, now I've seen you together, that she's
not--the ideal chaperon. But any port in a storm!"

"I thought you liked her," Annesley said.

"So I do--within limits. At least I appreciate qualities that she has.
But there are times--when a little of her goes a long way."

"I'm afraid she realized that you weren't making her welcome," Annesley
smiled. "You weren't very nice to her, were you?"

"I was as nice as she deserved," the man excused himself.

"But she was good to me last night!"

"She owes it to me to be good. It's a debt I expect her to pay, that's
all, and I'm not sure she's paying it generously. You needn't be too
grateful, dear."

"Perhaps, as she's known you some time, she feels you're sacrificing
yourself," Annesley defended the Countess. "I don't blame her!"

"She's sharp enough to see that I'm in great luck," said Smith. "But I
suppose there's always a dash of the cat in a woman of her race. I hope
there's no need to tell you that she has no right to be jealous. If she
had, I wouldn't have put you within reach of her claws. There are