"I happen to be one of those who have actually lived it," he said.

"Is your mother still living?" Cleopatra enquired.

Lord Henry bowed his head. "No," he replied, with that supreme calmness which only those feel who have discharged more than their appointed duty to a deceased relative, "she died three years ago."

For some moments the three walked on in silence; then at last Leonetta spoke.

"That does explain an awful lot about dear old Peachy, doesn't it, Cleo?" she exclaimed.

"It explains everything," Cleopatra replied serenely.

"Of course," Leonetta added, addressing Lord Henry, "we always knew you were Peachy's star turn,--you know what I mean! But we hadn't any idea you knew her so well. How lovely it must be to be understood so well, so deeply, by even one creature on earth!"

Lord Henry laughed.

"You girls could not be expected to understand your mother as clearly as I do," he said. "You were too close to her for that. I think you have both done wonders."

They had now reached the terrace of Brineweald Park, and it wanted three quarters of an hour to tea. The two sisters were still under the peculiar spell of the conversation they had just had with the young nobleman, and they did not wish to leave him. At last Cleopatra said she would like to go in search of her mother, and Lord Henry and Leonetta were left alone.

"Do you read everybody as clearly as you've read brave old Peachy?"

Leonetta asked him.

"I cannot say that," Lord Henry replied, perching himself on the stone balustrade of the terrace.

"Do you think you can read me?" she enquired.

He chuckled enigmatically.

"I cannot say that I'd get top marks with you," he said.

She laughed. "Do tell me," she cried, "what you read!"

At this moment Denis Malster, Guy Tyrrell, Agatha, and Vanessa appeared round the corner of the drive, and ran quickly up the steps. Each of the men bore a gun, and they strode eagerly towards Lord Henry and his companion.

"Come on, Leo!" Denis exclaimed as he drew near. "Excuse me interrupting you, but Guy and I are just going into the woods to try and get a couple of rabbits. Sir Joseph wants them to send to his head messenger at the office. You'll see some sport."

Lord Henry was silent, and covertly observed the girl at his side.

"Oh, not now!" Leonetta replied, frowning ever so slightly. "Must you go now?"

"Yes, we must go now," Denis replied, "Sir Joseph wants them to be sent off to-night. You don't mind, do you, Lord Henry? Perhaps you'd like to come too?"

Leonetta turned to Lord Henry to see what he would say.

He swung round indolently from the view he had been contemplating, and faced Malster.

"No thanks, old chap," he said, "I'd rather not, thank you."

"Well, you don't mind Leonetta coming, do you?" Denis persisted, growing a trifle overanxious and heated.

"Not in the least, of course," the young nobleman replied and turned his head again in the direction of the landscape.

"Come on, Leo!" Denis repeated, with just a shade of command in his voice, while Vanessa, Agatha, and Guy looked on spellbound.

"No, I'd rather not, really Denis, thanks!" she said. "We were just on such an interesting subject. Can't you go after tea?"

"No, I'm afraid not," said Denis, his face flushing slightly with vexation.

"Well, then, leave me out of it, for once, will you?" Leonetta pleaded.

"You know I should have loved to come. But I've got something I must finish with Lord Henry."

Denis Malster turned round, hot-eared and savage. "All right," he muttered. "I only thought you'd like it, that's all." And the four moved off in the direction of the woods, Denis walking with his head thrown more than usually back in the style that men commonly adopt when they are withdrawing from a humiliating interview. It is as if they were trying, like a drinking hen, to straighten their throats, in order the better to swallow the insult they have just received.

"I'm afraid that young man will not forgive me," said Lord Henry, when the party were out of earshot.

"Oh, that's ridiculous," said Leonetta; "as if I'd never seen a bunny shot in my life before. But let me think, what were we saying? Oh, yes, I know. You were going to read me."

He laughed.

She looked coyly up at him. "You know, Lord Henry, you really are a little disconcerting. You are one of those people who make one feel one ought to have done better at school."

"I devoutly trust I don't," he protested.

She examined his fine intelligent hands, and perceived as so many had perceived before her, the baffling mixture of deep thoughtfulness and youth in his eyes and brow.

"You do a little," she said, picking up a leaf and bending it about as she spoke. "And I do hate feeling stupid."

"You--stupid!" he ejaculated, and laughed.

"You must know what I mean," she added.

"You are beautiful, Leonetta," he said, "and that in itself is the greatest accomplishment, because it cannot be acquired."

"I thought you hadn't noticed me at all," she observed, trying to conceal the rapture she felt.

"I don't know about that,--one can't help looking at people who are constantly about one."

He made an effort to give this remark the ring of indifference, and he succeeded.

"But that's exactly it!" she cried. "They say that beautiful people are always stupid. That's why I say----"

"Nobody who knows anything about it says that," he observed, as if he were stating an interesting axiomatic principle and without a trace of the leer of the adulator.

"Really?"

"Of course not," he pursued. "For a face to be beautiful, it must have certain proportions. It must have a certain length of nose, a certain length of chin, and above all a certain height of brow. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she replied.