‘Will you allow me?’ he said, rising from his chair.  ’I beg your pardon, but, if you will allow me, I will arrange the fire.’

Alice let him have the poker, and when he had knocked in the coal-crust and put on some fresh fuel, he said: 

’If it weren’t for me I don’t know what would become of this fire.  I believe the old porter goes to sleep and forgets all about it.  Now and again he wakes up and makes a deal of fuss with a shovel and a broom.’

‘I really can’t say, we only came up from Galway to-day.’

’Then you don’t know the famous Shelbourne Hotel!  All the events of life are accomplished here.  People live here, and die here, and flirt here, and, I was going to say, marry here—­but hitherto the Shelbourne marriages have resulted in break-offs—­and we quarrel here; the friends of to-day are enemies to-morrow, and then they sit at different ends of the room.  Life in the Shelbourne is a thing in itself, and a thing to be studied.’

Alice laughed again, and again she continued her conversation.

’I really know nothing of the Shelbourne.  I was only here once before, and then only for a few days last summer, when I came home from school.’

‘And now you are here for the Drawing-Room?’

‘Yes; but how did you guess that?’

’The natural course of events:  a young lady leaves school, she spends four or five months at home, and then she is taken to the Lord-Lieutenant’s Drawing-Room.’

She liked him none the better for what he had said, and began to wonder how she might bring the conversation to a close.  But when he spoke again she forgot her intentions, and allowed his voice to charm her.

‘I think you told me,’ he said, ’that you came up from Galway to-day; may I ask you from what side of the county?’

Another piece of impertinence.  Why should he question her?  And yet she answered him.

‘We live near Gort—­do you know Gort?’

’Oh yes, I have been travelling for the last two months in Ireland.  I spent nearly a fortnight in Galway.  Lord Dungory lives near Gort.  Do you know him?’

’Very well indeed.  He is our nearest neighbour; we see him nearly every day.  Do you know him?’

’Yes, a little.  I have met him in London.  If I had not been so pressed for time I should have called upon him when I was in Galway.  I passed his place going to a land meeting—­oh, you need not be alarmed, I am not a Land League organizer, or else I should not have thought of calling at Dungory Castle.  What a pretty drive it is to Gort.’

’Then, do you know a place on the left-hand side of the road, about a mile and a half from Dungory Castle?’

‘You mean Brookfield?’

‘Yes; that is our place.’

‘Then you are Miss Barton?’

‘Yes, I am Miss Barton; do you know father or mother?’

’No, no; but I have heard the name in Galway.  I was spending a few days with one of your neighbours.’