Now, Mrs. Lorraine had intended to tell this young man something about the girl whom he was to take in to dinner, but she herself had been so occupied with Sheila that the opportunity escaped her.  Lord Arthur accordingly knew only that he was beside a very pretty woman, who was a Mrs. Somebody—­the exact name he had not caught—­and that the few words she had spoken were pronounced in a curious way.  Probably, he thought, she was from Dublin.

He also arrived at the conclusion that she was too pretty to know anything about the Deceased Wife’s Sister bill, in which he was, for family reasons, deeply interested, and considered it more likely that she would prefer to talk about theatres and such things.

“Were you at Covent Garden last night?” he said.

“No,” answered Sheila.  “But I was there two days ago, and it is very pretty to see the flowers and the fruit; and then they smell so sweetly as you walk through.”

“Oh yes, it is delightful,” said Lord Arthur.  “But I was speaking of the theatre.”

“Is there a theatre in there?”

He stared at her, and inwardly hoped she was not mad.

“Not in among the shops, no.  But don’t you know Covent Garden Theatre?”

“I have never been in any theatre, not yet,” said Sheila.

And then it began to dawn upon him that he must be talking to Frank Lavender’s wife.  Was there not some rumor about the girl having come from a remote part of the Highlands?  He determined on a bold stroke:  “You have not been long enough in London to see the theatres, I suppose.”

And then Sheila, taking it for granted that he knew her husband very well, and that he was quite familiar with all the circumstances of the case, began to chat to him freely enough.  He found that this Highland girl of whom he had heard vaguely was not at all shy.  He began to feel interested.  By and by he actually made efforts to assist her frankness by becoming equally frank, and by telling her all he knew of the things with which they were mutually acquainted.  Of course by this time they had got up into the Highlands.  The young man had himself been in the Highlands—­frequently, indeed.  He had never crossed to Lewis, but he had seen the island from the Sutherlandshire coast.  There were very many deer in Sutherlandshire, were there not?  Yes, he had been out a great many times, and had had his share of adventures.  Had he not gone out before daylight, and waited on the top of a hill, hidden by some rocks, to watch the mists clear along the hillsides and in the valley below?  Did not he tremble when he fired his first shot, and had not something passed before his eyes so that he could not see for a moment whether the stag had fallen or was away like lightning down the bed of the stream?  Somehow or other, Lord Arthur found himself relating all his experiences, as if he were a novice begging for the good opinion of a master.  She knew all about it, obviously, and