“You are to cherish me,” Ste. Marie said.  “Orders from headquarters.  How does one cherish people?” The corner of his very expressive mouth twitched, and he grinned at her.

Miss Benham did not approve of young men who began an acquaintance in this very familiar manner.  She thought that there was a certain preliminary and more formal stage which ought to be got through with first, but Ste, Marie’s grin was irresistible.  In spite of herself, she found that she was laughing.

“I don’t quite know,” she said.  “It sounds rather appalling, doesn’t it?  Marian has such an extraordinary fashion of hurling people at each other’s heads!  She takes my breath away at times.”

“Ah, well,” said Ste. Marie, “perhaps we can settle upon something when I’ve led you to the place where food is.  And, by-the-way, what are we waiting for?  Are we not all here?  There’s an even number.”  He broke off with a sudden exclamation of pleasure; and when Miss Benham turned to look, she found that Baron de Vries, who had been talking to some friends, had once more come up to where she stood.

She watched the greeting between the two men, and its quiet affection impressed her very much.  She knew Baron de Vries well, and she knew that it was not his habit to show or to feel a strong liking for young and idle men.  This young man must be very worth while to have won the regard of that wise old Belgian.  Just then Hartley, who had been barricaded behind a cordon of friends, came up to her in an abominable temper over his ill luck, and a few moments later the dinner procession was formed and they went in.

At table Miss Benham found herself between Ste. Marie and the same strange, fair youth who had afflicted her in the drawing-room.  She looked upon him now with a sort of dismayed terror, but it developed that there was nothing to fear from the fair youth.  He had no attention to waste upon social amenities.  He fell upon his food with a wolfish passion extraordinary to see and also—­alas!—­to hear.  Miss Benham turned from him to meet Ste. Marie’s delighted eye.

“Tell him for me,” begged that gentleman, “that soup should be seen—­not heard.”

But Miss Benham gave a little shiver of disgust.  “I shall tell him nothing whatever,” she said.  “He’s quite too dreadful, really!  People shouldn’t be exposed to that sort of thing.  It’s not only the noises.  Plenty of very charming and estimable Germans, for example, make strange noises at table.  But he behaves like a famished dog over a bone.  I refuse to have anything to do with him.  You must make up the loss to me, M. Ste. Marie.  You must be as amusing as two people.”  She smiled across at him in her gravely questioning fashion.  “I’m wondering,” she said, “if I dare ask you a very personal question.  I hesitate because I don’t like people who presume too much upon a short acquaintance—­and our acquaintance has been very, very short, hasn’t it? even though we may have heard a great deal about each other beforehand.  I wonder—­”