the baronet had brought his mother to call upon Nancy Beck. Mrs. Headway's triumph had begun; the Dowager Lady Demesne had taken the first step. Waterville wondered whether the ladies in New York, notified by some magnetic wave, were distorting their features. Mrs. Headway, quickly conscious of what had happened, was neither too prompt to appropriate the visit, nor too slow to acknowledge it. She just paused, smiling at Sir Arthur.
"I wish to introduce my mother—she wants very much to know you." He approached Mrs. Headway; the lady had taken his arm. She was at once simple and circumspect; she had all the resources of an English matron.
Mrs. Headway, without advancing a step, put out her hands as if to draw her visitor quickly closer. "I declare, you 're too sweet!" Waterville heard her say.
He was turning away, as his own business was over; but the young Englishman, who had surrendered his mother to the embrace, as it might now almost be called, of their hostess, just checked him with a friendly gesture. "I daresay I sha'n't see you again—I'm going away."
"Good-by, then," said Waterville. "You return to England?"
"No; I go to Cannes with my mother."
"You remain at Cannes?"
"Till Christmas very likely."
The ladies, escorted by Mr. Max, had passed into the hotel, and Waterville presently quitted his inter-
