"And so you mean that Mr. Stanmer is in a suspicious mood?"
"Well, I mean that his situation is the same as mine."
The Countess gave me one of her serious looks.
"Come," she said, "what was it—this famous situation of yours? I have heard you mention it before."
"Your mother might have told you, since she occasionally did me the honour to speak of me."
"All my mother ever told me was that you were a sad puzzle to her."
At this, of course, I laughed out—I laugh still as I write it.
"Well, then, that was my situation—I was a sad puzzle to a very clever woman."
"And you mean, therefore, that I am a puzzle to poor Mr. Stanmer?"
"He is racking his brains to make you out. Remember it was you who said he was intelligent."
She looked round at him, and as fortune would have it, his appearance at that moment quite confirmed my assertion. He was lounging back in his chair with an air of indolence rather too marked for
