Nell of Shorne Mills

Nell remained silent. It was not befitting that she should discuss her

host and employer; and she wondered whether the clever undersecretary

beside her knew who she was and the position she held in the house. She

did not know enough of the world to be aware that nowadays one discusses

one's friends--even at their own tables--with a freedom which would have

shocked an earlier generation.

"I often think," he continued, "that Lord Wolfer would have served the

moralists as an instance of the vanity of human wishes."

"Why?" Nell could not help asking.

"Think of it!" he said, with a slight laugh. "He is the bearer of an old

and honored title, he is passing rich, he is a cabinet minister, he is

married to an extremely clever and charming lady--we agreed that she is

pretty, too, didn't we?--and----" He paused a moment. "Should you say

that Lord Wolfer is a happy man?"

As he put this significant question, which explained his remark about

the vanity of human wishes, Nell looked at the earl. He was apparently

listening to the duchess by his side; but his eyes, under their

straight, dark brows, were fixed upon his wife, who, leaning forward

slightly, was listening with downcast eyes and a smile to Sir Archie, a

few chairs from her.

Nell flushed.

"N-o, I don't know," she said, rather confusedly. "Lord Wolfer has so

much on his mind--politics, and----He is nearly always at work; he is

often in his study writing until early morning."

Sir Charles looked at her quickly.

"You know them very well. You are staying here?" he asked.

"I live here," said Nell simply. "I am what Sir Archie Walbrooke calls

'general utility.' Lady Wolfer has so much to do, and I help her keep

house, or try and persuade myself that I do."

Sir Charles was too much a man of the world to be discomfited; but he

laughed a little ruefully as he said: "That serves me right for discussing people with a lady with whom I

haven't the honor and pleasure of an acquaintance. It reminds me of that

very old story of the man at the evening party, which you no doubt

remember."

"No; I've heard so few stories, old or new," said Nell, smiling. "Please

tell it me."

"I will if you'll tell me your name in exchange; mine is Fletcher, but I

am usually called Sir Charles because Mr. Gresham honors me with his

close friendship. 'Charles, his friend,' as they used to put it in the

old play books, you know."