all the ins and outs of her little accusations against him.  She had flattered him—­without any intention of flattery on her part.  She had spoken of his intelligence and had complained that he had been too sharp to her.  Mabel Grex when most sweet to him, when most loving, always made him feel that he was her inferior.  She took no trouble to hide her conviction of his youthfulness.  This was anything but flattering.  Miss Boncassen, on the other hand, professed herself almost to be afraid of him.

‘There shall be no tomfoolery of love-making,’ she had said.  But what if it were not tomfoolery at all?  What if it were good, genuine, earnest love-making?  He certainly was not pledged to Lady Mabel.  As regarded his father there would be a difficulty.  In the first place he had been fool enough to tell his father that he was going to make an offer to Mabel Grex.  And then his father would surely refuse his consent to a marriage with an American stranger.  In such case there would be no unlimited income, no immediate pleasantness of magnificent life such as he knew would be poured out upon him if he were to marry Mabel Grex.  As he thought of this, however, he told himself that he would not sell himself for money and magnificence.  He could afford to be independent, and gratify his own taste.  Just at this moment he was of the opinion that Isabel Boncassen would be the sweeter companion of the two.

He had sauntered down to the place where they were dancing and stood by, saying a few words to Mrs Boncassen.  ’Why are you not dancing, my Lord?’ she asked.

‘There are enough without me.’

’I guess you young aristocrats are never overfond of doing much with your own arms and legs.’

’I don’t know about that; polo, you know, for the legs, and lawn-tennis for the arms, is hard work enough.’

’But it must always be something new-fangled; and after all it isn’t of much account.  Our young men like to have quite a time at dancing.’

It all came through her nose!  And she looked so common!  What would the Duke say to her, or Mary, or even Gerald?  The father was by no means so objectionable.  He was a tall, straight, ungainly man, who always wore black clothes.  He had dark, stiff, short hair, a long nose, and a forehead that was both high and broad.  Ezekiel Boncassen was the very man,—­from his appearance,—–­ for a President of the United States; and there were men who talked of him for that high office.  That he had never attended to politics was supposed to be in his favour.  He had the reputation of being the most learned man in the States, and reputation itself often suffices to give a man a dignity of manner.  He, too, spoke through his nose, but the peculiar twang coming from a man would be supposed to be virile and incisive.  From a woman, Lord Silverbridge thought it to be unbearable.  But as to Isabel, had she been born within the confines of some lordly park in Hertfordshire, she could not have been more completely free from the abomination.