Simeon touched among them to pluck at his brother.  He had not a chance; he retired, and swam into the salmon-net of seductive Mrs. Blathenoy’s broad bright smile.

’It’s a matter of mines, and they’re hovering in the attitude of the query, like corkscrews over a bottle, profoundly indifferent to blood-relationships,’ he said to her.

‘Pray, stay and be consoled by me,’ said the fair young woman.  ’You are to point me out all the distinguished people.  Is it true, that your brother has left the army?’

’Dartrey no longer wears the red.  Here comes Colonel Corfe, who does.  England has her army still!’

‘His wife persuaded him?’

‘You see he is wearing the black.’

’For her?  How very very sad!  Tell me—­what a funnily dressed woman meeting that gentleman!’

‘Hush—­a friend of the warrior.  Splendid weather, Colonel Corfe.’

‘Superb toilettes!’ The colonel eyed Mrs. Blathenoy dilatingly, advanced, bowed, and opened the siege.

She decided a calculation upon his age, made a wall of it, smilingly agreed with his encomium of the Concert, and toned her voice to Fenellan’s comprehension:  ‘Did it occur recently?’

‘Months; in Africa; I haven’t the date.’

’Such numbers of people one would wish to know!  Who are those ladies holding a Court, where Mr. Radnor is?’

‘Lady Carmine, Lady Swanage—­if it is your wish?’ interposed the colonel.

She dealt him a forgiving smile.  ’And that pleasant-looking old gentleman?’

Colonel Corfe drew-up.  Fenellan said:  ‘Are we veterans at forty or so?’

’Well, it ‘s the romance, perhaps!’ She raised her shoulders.

The colonel’s intelligence ran a dog’s nose for a lady’s interjections.  ’The romance? . . . at forty, fifty? gone?  Miss Julinks, the great heiress and a beauty; has chosen him over the heads of all the young men of his time.  Cranmer Lotsdale.  Most romantic history!’

‘She’s in love with that, I suppose.’

‘Now you direct my attention to him,’ said Fenellan, ’the writing of the romantic history has made the texture look a trifle thready.  You have a terrible eye.’

It was thrown to where the person stood who had first within a few minutes helped her to form critical estimates of men, more consciously to read them.

‘Your brother stays in England?’

‘The fear is, that he’s off again.’

‘Annoying for you.  If I had a brother, I would not let him go.’

‘How would you detain him?’

’Locks and bolts, clock wrong, hands and arms, kneeling—­the fourth act of the Huguenots!’

‘He went by way of the window, I think.  But that was a lover.’

‘Oh! well!’ she flushed.  She did not hear the ’neglected and astonished colonel speak, and she sought diversion in saying to Fenellan:  ’So many people of distinction are assembled here to-day!  Tell me, who is that pompous gentleman, who holds his arms up doubled, as he walks?’