Peter was realizing for the first time in his life, how champagne made one feel.

“Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?”

“Oh, nearly everybody knew something.  That is, every one we’ve met in the last five years.  Before that, there was Miss De Voe, and grandpapa, of course, when he came over in 1879—­”

“But,” interrupted Peter, “I don’t think I had met him once before that time, except at the Shrubberies.”

“No, he hadn’t seen you.  But he knew a lot about you, from Mr. Lapharn and Mr. Avery, and some other men who had met you.”

“Who else?”

“Miss Leroy, mamma’s bridesmaid, who spent two weeks at our villa near Florence, and Dr. Purple, your clergyman, who was in the same house with us at Ober-Ammergau, and—­and—­oh the best were Mr. and Mrs. Rivington.  They were in Jersey, having their honeymoon.  They told me more than all the rest put together.”

“I feel quite safe in their hands.  Dorothy and I formed a mutual admiration society a good many years ago.”

“She and Mr. Rivington couldn’t say enough good of you.”

“You must make allowance for the fact that they were on their wedding journey, and probably saw everything rose-colored.”

“That was it.  Dorothy told me about your giving Mr. Rivington a full partnership, in order that Mr. Ogden should give his consent.”

Peter laughed.

“Ray swore that he wouldn’t tell.  And Dorothy has always appeared ignorant.  And yet she knew it on her wedding trip.”

“She couldn’t help it.  She said she must tell some one, she was so happy.  So she told mamma and me.  She showed us your photograph.  Papa and mamma said it was like you, but I don’t think it is.”

Again Leonore looked up at him.  Leonore, when she glanced at a man, had the same frank, fearless gaze that her mother had of yore.  But she did not look as often nor as long, and did not seem so wrapped up in the man’s remarks when she looked.  We are afraid even at seventeen that Leonore had discovered that she had very fetching eyes, and did not intend to cheapen them, by showing them too much.  During the whole of this dialogue, Peter had had only “come-and-go” glimpses of those eyes.  He wanted to see more of them.  He longed to lean over and turn the face up and really look down into them.  Still, he could see the curly hair, and the little ear, and the round of the cheek, and the long lashes.  For the moment Peter did not agree with Mr. Weller that “life isn’t all beer and skittles.”

“I’ve been so anxious to meet you.  I’ve begged papa ever since we landed to take me to see you.  And he’s promised me, over and over again, to do it, but something always interfered.  You see, I felt very strange and—­and queer, not knowing people of my own country, and I felt that I really knew you, and wouldn’t have to begin new as I do with other people.  I do so dread next winter when I’m to go into society.  I don’t know what I shall do, I’ll not know any one.”