"In the East, I believe. She has been there and all over the
world; and now visits England for the first time."

"She has chosen a sprightly season for her visit. Is she not
afraid of the plague, I wonder?"

"No; she fears nothing," said Ormiston, as he knocked loudly at
the door. "I begin to believe she is made of adamant instead of
what other women are made of."

"Which is a rib, I believe," observed Sir Norman, thoughtfully.
"And that accounts, I dare say, for their being of such a crooked
and cantankerous nature. They're a wonderful race women are; and
for what Inscrutable reason it has pleased Providence to create
them - "

The opening of the door brought to a sudden end this little touch
of moralizing, and a wrinkled old porter thrust out a very
withered and unlovely face.

"La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without
ceremony.

The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,
Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed
in the same style by Sir Norman.

"You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude
of this place," observed that young gentleman, as they passed
into a room at the head of the stairs.