If everybody was not enjoying himself at the Villa it certainly was not the fault of the host, Sir Stephen Orme.

Howard, as he drew his chair up beside Stafford, when the ladies had left the room after dinner, and the gentlemen had begun to glance longingly at the rare Chateau claret and the Windermere port, made a remark to this effect: "Upon my word, Staff, it is the most brilliant house-party which I have ever joined; and as to your father in his character of host--Well, words fail to express my admiration." Stafford glanced at his father at the head of the table and nodded.

Sir Stephen had been the life and soul and spring of the dinner; talking fashionable gossip to Lady Fitzharford on one side of him, and a "giddy girl of twenty" on the other; exchanging badinage with "Bertie," and telling deeply interesting stories to the men; and he was now dragging reluctant laughter from the grim Baron Wirsch and the almost grimmer Griffenberg, as he saw with one eye that the wine was circulating, and with the other that no one was being overlooked or allowed to drop into dullness.
"A most marvellous man! Nearly all the morning he was closeted with the financiers; in the afternoon he went for a ride with Lady Clansford; he was in attendance at the solemn function of afternoon tea; he played croquet--and played it well--at half-past five; at six I saw him walking round the grounds with the Effords and the Fitzharfords, and now he is laughing and talking with the _abandon_ of a boy of five-and-twenty, while the boy of five-and-twenty sits here as grave and silent as if he had been working like a horse--or a Sir Stephen Orme--instead of fooling about the lake with the most beautiful woman in the party." "And his friend has spent the day in a deck-chair on the terrace," retorted Stafford.
"At any rate, I have been out of mischief," said Howard.

Then he remembered his wager with Maude Falconer, and added, rather remorsefully: "At least I hope so.

By the way, don't you echo my expression of opinion that Miss Falconer is the most beautiful woman here--or elsewhere ?" Stafford woke from the reverie into which he nearly always dropped when Howard was talking, and nodded indifferently.
"Oh, yes; she is lovely, of course." "How good of you, how kind and gracious!" retorted Howard, ironically.
"So my prince deigns to approve of her?
And you also condescended to admit that she is--er--rather clever ?" "I daresay," said Stafford.