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"That is just what is so noble about Nicholas," returns Doatie, quickly. "He supports him, simply because it is his own quarrel. After all, it matters to nobody but Nicholas himself: no one else will suffer if that odious black man conquers." "Well, it was in a theatre I heard it," confesses Mona, meekly: "it was a great lord who said it on the stage, so I thought it would be all right." "I hope you had your hat on," says Lady Rodney, presently, in a severe tone, meant to cover the defeat. She had once seen Mona with the crimson silk handkerchief on her head,—Irish fashion,—and had expressed her disapproval of all such uncivilized headdresses. "Nothing makes me so hungry as Lady Lilias," says Doatie, comfortably. She is lying back in a huge arm-chair that is capable of holding three like her, and is devouring bread and butter like a dainty but starved little fairy. Nicholas, sitting beside her, is holding her tea-cup, her own special tea-cup of gaudy Sèvres. "She is very trying, isn't she, Nicholas? What a dazzling skin she has!—the very whitest I ever saw.".