she was going away, which she did very soon after dinner, I asked
her if I might call and see her. She hesitated for a moment,
glanced round to see if any one was near us, and then said, "Yes;
to-morrow at a quarter to five." I begged Madame de Rastail to tell
me about her; but all that I could learn was that she was a widow
with a beautiful house in Park Lane, and as some scientific bore
began a dissertation on widows, as exemplifying the survival of the
matrimonially fittest, I left and went home.

'The next day I arrived at Park Lane punctual to the moment, but was
told by the butler that Lady Alroy had just gone out. I went down
to the club quite unhappy and very much puzzled, and after long
consideration wrote her a letter, asking if I might be allowed to
try my chance some other afternoon. I had no answer for several
days, but at last I got a little note saying she would be at home on
Sunday at four and with this extraordinary postscript: "Please do
not write to me here again; I will explain when I see you." On
Sunday she received me, and was perfectly charming; but when I was
going away she begged of me, if I ever had occasion to write to her
again, to address my letter to "Mrs. Knox, care of Whittaker's
Library, Green Street." "There are reasons," she said, "why I
cannot receive letters in my own house."

'All through the season I saw a great deal of her, and the
atmosphere of mystery never left her. Sometimes I thought that she
was in the power of some man, but she looked so unapproachable, that
I could not believe it. It was really very difficult for me to come
to any conclusion, for she was like one of those strange crystals
that one sees in museums, which are at one moment clear, and at
another clouded. At last I determined to ask her to be my wife: I