“Let us stay here, Mr. Egerton,” said Georgie, with a smile. “It always makes my head ache to see Lord Breton play billiards. You don’t mind staying?” Jack protested. “Ah! I see you are like all other men—you always flatter.” “How can we help it when there is so much to flatter?” “That is a doubtful compliment, but I will take it at its best, as one must everything in this life. Do you take tea, Mr. Egerton?” Jack had an old-maid’s passion for the fragrant brew, & watched with no small enjoyment the quick movements of Georgie’s pretty hand as she filled & sweetened his cup. “There! You have got to pay for my services by getting up to fetch it, since you will plant yourself at the other end of the room,” she said, laughing, as she handed it to him. “Thanks. I find that English tea is a different thing from Roman tea,” said Jack, leaning back luxuriously, so that he could watch her as she sat opposite, in a charming négligeé attitude, as easy as his own. “But one doesn’t go to Rome for tea! At least, I believe not,” she said, taking up her cup. “What does one go to Rome for?” returned Jack; “as I sit here, in this charming drawing-room, with London on every side, I wonder how anyone can care to go abroad?” “Really,” said Georgie, smiling, “your words have a double entendre. Is it my drawing-room, Mr. Egerton, or London that makes it hard to go abroad?” “To those who have the happiness of knowing you, I should say—both.” “Unanswerable! Compliments always are—But do tell me, Mr. Egerton, if you have seen my cousin Guy—Mr. Hastings, lately?” She said it lightly, easily, in the tone she had used to rally & amuse him a moment before; there was no change in voice, or manner. Jack was disagreeably startled out of his train of lazy enjoyment; in the charm of her presence he had nearly forgotten his loyalty to Guy, but the lightness of her tone as she named him, brought all the horror jarringly back. He changed in a moment from the mere drawing room lounger, with a flattering repartee for every remark, into the stout friend & the “good hater.” He was our old Jack Egerton again. For a moment he did not answer her; & as she appeared absorbed in the contemplation of the fan which she was opening & furling, perhaps she did not see the angry flash in his honest gray eyes. When he spoke she did look up, & with undisguised astonishment in her pretty face. “I think, Lady Breton,” said Jack, sternly, “that you should be able to answer your own question.” “What can you mean, Mr. Egerton? Why do you speak in that solemn oracular manner?” “Excuse me, Lady Breton,” returned Jack; “I cannot speak in any other tone of my friend!” “Than the solemn & oracular?” said Georgie, mischievously. “You must pardon me,” Egerton answered gravely,” If I ask you not to speak so lightly on a subject which…which…” “Pray go on, Mr. Egerton,” she said, in a low, taunting voice; & it urged him on, before he knew it, to utter the truth. “I believe,” he returned quickly, “that we are speaking at cross-purposes, but since you give me permission I will go on & tell you frankly that I cannot sit still and listen to such mere trifling with his name from the woman who has ruined Guy Hastings’ life.” Her colour deepened, but her voice was quite controlled as she said, “I do not think I gave you permission to insult me.” “Nor did I mean to insult you, Lady Breton; if I have, order me out of your drawing-room at once—but I must speak the truth.” “Since when have you developped this virtue, Mr. Egerton? Well—” she set her lips slightly, “go on. I will listen to the truth.” “You have heard what I said,” Jack answered, coldly. “Let me see”—Jack noticed that she composed herself by an effort—“that I had ruined Guy—Mr. Hastings’ life.” “As you must ruin the life of any man who has the misfortune to love you. You know your power.” “Well—suppose I do.