With young and diffident men Alicia had a pleasant instinct for conducting herself as smilingly as though they were the greatest wits about the town.  The envious of her sex declared that it was because she scarcely recognized the difference; but be that as it may, it served her on this occasion in the most admirable stead.  She detached the agitated peer from the thickest of the throng, propped him beside her against the wall, and by her kindness at length unloosed his tongue.  Then it was she began to suspect that his nervous manner must surely be due to some peculiar circumstance rather than mere constitutional shyness.  Made observant by her keen curiosity, she noticed at first a worried, almost hunted, look in his eyes and an extreme impatience of scrutiny by his fellow-guests; but as he gained confidence in her kindness and discretion these passed away, and he appeared simply a garrulous young man, with a tolerably good opinion of himself.

“Poor fellow!  He is in trouble of some kind.  Something to do with Eva, of course!” she said to her sympathetically.

The genuine Tulliwuddle had indeed some cause for perturbation.  After keeping himself out of the way of all his friends and most of his acquaintances ever since the departure of his substitute, hearing nothing of what was happening at Hechnahoul, and living in daily dread of the ignominious exposure of their plot, he had stumbled by accident against his aunt, explained his prolonged absence from her house with the utmost difficulty, and found himself forced to appease her wounded feelings by appearing where he least wished to be seen—­in a crowded London reception-room.  No wonder the unfortunate young man seemed nervous and ill at ease.

As for Alicia, she was consumed with anxiety to know why he was here and not in Scotland, as Sir Justin had supposed; and, indeed, to learn a number of things.  And now they were rapidly getting on sufficiently familiar terms for her to put a tactful question or two.  Encouraged by her sympathy, he began to touch upon his own anxieties.

“A young man ought to get married, I suppose,” he remarked confidentially.

The Baroness smiled.

“That depends on whether he likes any one well enough to marry her, doesn’t it?”

He sighed.

“Do you think—­honestly now,” he said solemnly, “that one should marry for love or marry for money?”

“For love, certainly!”

“You really think so?  You’d advise—­er—­advise a fellow to blow the prejudices of his friends, and that sort of thing?”

“I should have to know a little more about the case.”

He was evidently longing for a confidant.

“Suppose er—­one girl was ripping, but—­well—­ on the stage, for instance.”

“On the stage!” exclaimed the Baroness.  “Yes, please go on.  What about the other girl?”

“Suppose she had simply pots of money, but the fellow didn’t know much more about her?”