very pretty woman, and Longmore looked at her as often as was consistent
with good manners. After a while he even began to wonder who she was and
finally to suspect that she was one of those ladies whom it is no breach
of good manners to look at as often as you like. Our young man too, if
he had been so disposed, would have been the more free to give her all
his attention that her own was fixed upon the person facing her. She was
what the French call a belle brune, and though Longmore, who had rather
a conservative taste in such matters, was but half-charmed by her bold
outlines and even braver complexion, he couldn't help admiring her
expression of basking contentment.

She was evidently very happy, and her happiness gave her an air of
innocence. The talk of her friend, whoever he was, abundantly suited her
humour, for she sat listening to him with a broad idle smile and
interrupting him fitfully, while she crunched her bonbons, with a
murmured response, presumably as broad, which appeared to have the
effect of launching him again. She drank a great deal of champagne and
ate an immense number of strawberries, and was plainly altogether a
person with an impartial relish for strawberries, champagne and what she
doubtless would have called betises.

They had half-finished dinner when Longmore sat down, and he was still
in his place when they rose. She had hung her bonnet on a nail above her
chair, and her companion passed round the table to take it down for her.
As he did so she bent her head to look at a wine-stain on her dress, and
in the movement exposed the greater part of the back of a very handsome
neck. The gentleman observed it, and observed also, apparently, that the
room beyond them was empty; that he stood within eyeshot of Longmore he
failed to observe. He stooped suddenly and imprinted a gallant kiss on
the fair expanse. In the author of this tribute Longmore then recognised