Drummond smilingly assured her that she had not in any way disarranged
his projects, and passed with so absorbed a brow that the Countess could
afford to turn her head and inspect him, without fear that he would
surprise her in the act. Knocking the pearly edge of her fan on her
teeth, she eyed him under her joined black lashes, and deliberately read
his thoughts in the mere shape of his back and shoulders. She read him
through and through, and was unconscious of the effective attitude she
stood in for the space of two full minutes, and even then it required one
of our unhappy sex to recall her. This was Harry Jocelyn.

'My friend,' she said to him, with a melancholy smile, 'my one friend
here!'

Harry went through the form of kissing her hand, which he had been
taught, and practised cunningly as the first step of the ladder.

'I say, you looked so handsome, standing as you did just now,' he
remarked; and she could see how far beneath her that effective attitude
had precipitated the youth.

'Ah!' she sighed, walking on, with the step of majesty in exile.

'What the deuce is the matter with everybody to-day?' cried Harry.
'I 'm hanged if I can make it out. There's the Carrington, as you call
her, I met her with such a pair of eyes, and old George looking as if
he'd been licked, at her heels; and there's Drummond and his lady fair
moping about the lawn, and my mother positively getting excited--there's
a miracle! and Juley 's sharpening her nails for somebody, and if
Ferdinand don't look out, your brother 'll be walking off with Rosey--
that 's my opinion.'