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him. Just then they did not happen to have anyone to make a fuss about, and he was a new boy, uncommon-looking, with plenty of assurance, and, according to Archie Brackenridge, a startlingly varied career. A smuggler and a duellist—but, of course, these things are different in Spain. But no one knew how many duels he had fought—really! And he always killed his man if he chose. He was a Frenchman, but he spoke English perfectly. “We must have him here,” they said, in fact, “and get him to tell some of his adventures. Goodness only knows what he has not done—and he is absurdly young too!”

On the subject of adventures Tony was very reticent, which probably added to his effect. He chuckled sometimes as he thought how dull these people would think his life if they could see it cinematographed. There was so much work to so little of the other thing. But he did not feel inclined to give confidences, and his laughing, rather scornful eyes might have meant anything.

He did meet Pamela that night, and it was not till years after that he knew how lucky he had been in being vouchsafed a dance. Pamela, as a matter of fact, was strongly prejudiced against him. When a girl has been given to understand on all sides that she is quite the prettiest debutante of the year, in addition to being Lady Trent and a Personage—when everybody has been longing to meet her, it is disconcerting when people begin to say, “Have you met Antony St. Croix? No? Oh, you really should! He’s quite too charming. I met him some time ago at the Lowthers’.”

It should have been Antony St. Croix who was told to meet her. She did not like this reversing of positions, and in any case she was tired of having him thrust down her throat. People ran things so to death!—and it was only the last of Archie’s crazes. . . .

Pamela was, one perceives, a little spoilt: it was very