"How good of you to come!" she cried, embracing both ladies in turn, with
a fervour which certainly seemed to imply that she had no other friends
on earth.

In truth, she had, for the moment, none so dear; for there are certain
warm hearts that are happy in always loving, not the highest, but the
nearest.

"Let me see, now," she added, vigorously dragging forward chairs. "I
asked some one to meet you--some one I particularly wanted you to become
acquainted with, but I cannot remember who it is." As she spoke she
consulted a little red morocco betting-book.

"Lory!" she cried, after a short search. "Yes, of course it was Lory de
Vasselot--my cousin. And--will you believe it?--he saved my life the
other day, all in a moment! Yes! I saw death, quite close, before my
eyes. Ugh! And I, who am so wicked! You do not know what it is to be
wicked and to know it, Denise--you who are so young. But that dear
Mademoiselle Brun, she knows."

"Thank you," said mademoiselle.

"And Lory saved me, ah! so cleverly. There is no better horseman in the
army, they say. Yes; he will certainly come this afternoon, unless there
is a race at Longchamps. Now, is there a race, I wonder?"

"For the moment," said Mademoiselle Brun, very gravely, "I cannot tell
you."