who thought she showed small sympathy. "You used to like Chevy."
"He was a pretty little child. I hate boys."
"You wouldn't if you had them of your own," said Lord Clairvaux, and grumbled inaudibly as he took some cutlets.
Lady Hilda coloured a little.
"I have really not imagination enough to follow you:—will you have coffee? I hope it's nothing serious with Cheviot?"
"Fever, his mother thinks; any way I must go. I saw your friend the Duca della Rocca this morning: he was out early."
He thought this was approaching the subject in a masterly manner.
"Italians always rise early," said the Lady Hilda, giving him his cup.
"And he was at the Veglione last night—"
"All Italians go to the Veglione."
"You have seen a great deal of him, haven't you?" asked Lord Clairvaux, looking at her across the table, and thinking how pretty all that white was which she had on, and what a difficult person she was to begin anything with; he had
