assorted sizes and kinds of jealousy, though. Some women want all the
lime-light and grudge sparing any for a younger and prettier girl."

Annesley laughed. "_Prettier!_ Why, she's a beauty, and I----"

"Wait till I introduce you to Mrs. Nelson Smith, who's going to be one
of the best-dressed, best-looking young women in London, and you'll be
_sorry_ for the poor old Countess," returned Smith, warmly. "You can
afford then to heap coals of fire on her head, which can't make it redder
than it is. Meanwhile, it occurs to me, from the way the wind blows,
you'd better go carefully with the lady! Don't let her pump you about
yourself, or what happened at Mrs. Ellsworth's. It's not her business.
Don't confide any more than you need, and if she pretends to confide in
_you_ understand that it will be for a purpose. The Countess is no
_ingénue_!

"But enough about her," he went on, abruptly. "She sha'n't spoil our
first breakfast together, even by reminding me of gloomy meals I used
sometimes to eat with her when we happened to find ourselves in each
other's society on board the _Monarchic_. I was feeling down on my luck
then, and she wasn't the one to cheer me up. But things are different
now. Have you noticed, by the way, that she has a nickname for me?"

"Yes," Annesley admitted. "She calls you 'Don.'"

"It's a name she made up because she used to say, when we first met, I
was like a Spaniard; and I can jabber Spanish among other lingos. It's
more her native tongue, you know, than English. I only refer to it
because I want you to have a special name of your own for me, and I don't
want it to be that one. It can't be Nelson, because--well, I can never be