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"He was of course a man of great force of character and-- and expression," she added."I remember thinking at the time that his eloquent frankness of phrase might perhaps seem even severe to frivolous creatures like myself.A really remarkable personality.""His sermons," faltered Miss Alicia, as a refuge, "were indeed remarkable.I am sure he must greatly have enjoyed his conversations with you.I am afraid there were very few clever women in the neighborhood of Rowlton."Casting a bitter side glance on her silent daughter, Lady Mallowe lightly seized upon New York as a subject.She knew so much of it from delightful New Yorkers.London was full of delightful New Yorkers.She would like beyond everything to spend a winter in New York.She understood that the season there was in the winter and that it was most brilliant.Mr.Temple Barholm must tell them about it.

"Yes," said Lady Joan, looking at him through narrowed lids, "Mr.

Temple Barholm ought to tell us about it."

She wanted to hear what he would say, to see how he would try to get out of the difficulty or flounder staggeringly through it.Her mother knew in an instant that her own speech had been a stupid blunder.She had put the man into exactly the position Joan would enjoy seeing him in.But he wasn't in a position, it appeared.

"What is the season, anyhow?" he said."You've got one on me when you talk about seasons.""In London," Miss Alicia explained courageously, "it is the time when her Majesty is at Buckingham Palace, and when the drawing-rooms are held, and Parliament sits, and people come up to town and give balls."She wished that Lady Mallowe had not made her remark just at this time.She knew that the quietly moving servants were listening, and that their civilly averted eyes had seen Captain Palliser smile and Lady Joan's curious look, and that the whole incident would form entertainment for their supper- table.

"I guess they have it in the winter in New York, then, if that's it,"he said."There's no Buckingham Palace there, and no drawing-rooms, and Congress sits in Washington.But New York takes it out in suppers at Sherry's and Delmonico's and theaters and receptions.Miss Alicia knows how I used to go to them when I was a little fellow, don't you, Miss Alicia?" he added, smiling at her across the table.

"You have told me," she answered.She noticed that Burrill and the footmen stood at attention in their places.

"I used to stand outside in the snow and look in through the windows at the people having a good time," he said."Us kids that were selling newspapers used to try to fill ourselves up with choosing whose plate we'd take if we could get at it.Beefsteak and French fried potatoes were the favorites, and hot oyster stews.We were so all-fired hungry!""How pathetic!" exclaimed Lady Mallowe."And how interesting, now that it is all over!"She knew that her manner was gushing, and Joan's slight side glance of subtle appreciation of the fact exasperated her almost beyond endurance.What could one do, what could one talk about, without involving oneself in difficulties out of which one's hasty retreat could be effected only by gushing? Taking into consideration the awkwardness of the whole situation and seeing Joan's temper and attitude, if there had not been so much at stake she would have received a summoning telegram from London the next day and taken flight.But she had been forced to hold her ground before in places she detested or where she was not wanted, and she must hold it again until she had found out the worst or the best.And, great heaven! how Joan was conducting herself, with that slow, quiet insultingness of tone and look, the wicked, silent insolence of bearing which no man was able to stand, however admiringly he began! The Duke of Merthshire had turned his back upon it even after all the world had known his intentions, even after the newspapers had prematurely announced the engagement and she herself had been convinced that he could not possibly retreat.She had worked desperately that season, she had fawned on and petted newspaper people, and stooped to little things no one but herself could have invented and which no one but herself knew of.And never had Joan been so superb; her beauty had seemed at its most brilliant height.The match would have been magnificent; but he could not stand her, and would not.Why, indeed, should any man? She glanced at her across the table.A beauty, of course; but she was thinner, and her eyes had a hungry fierceness in them, and the two delicate, straight lines between her black brows were deepening.