Happily at this moment there came into the room two or three young gentlemen, intent upon supper and subsequent cards, who took possession of the farther end of the table; and Lionel was glad to get up and join the new-comers, for he felt he could not eat in the immediate neighborhood of this ill-favored person.  He had his poached eggs and a pint of hock in the company of these new friends; and, after having for some time listened to their ingenuous talk—­which was chiefly a laudation of Miss Nellie Farren—­he lit a cigarette and set out for home.

So it was Octavius Quirk who was now established as Lady Adela’s favorite?  It was he who was shown the first sheets of the new novel; it was he who was asked to dinner immediately on the return of the family from Scotland; it was he who was to be Lady Adela’s chief counsellor throughout the next appeal to the British public?  And perhaps he advised Lady Sybil, also, about the best way to get her musical compositions talked of; and might not one expect to find, in some minor exhibition, a portrait of Octavius Quirk, Esq., by Lady Rosamund Bourne?  It seemed a gruesome kind of thing to think of these three beautiful women paying court to that lank-haired, puffy, bilious-looking baboon.  He wondered what Miss Georgie Lestrange thought of it; Miss Georgie had humorous eyes that could say a good deal.  And Lord Rockminster—­how did Lord Rockminster manage to tolerate this uncouth creature?—­was his good-natured devotion to his three accomplished sisters equal even to that?

Lionel did not proceed to ask himself why he had grown suddenly jealous of a man whom he himself had introduced to Lady Adela Cunyngham.  Yet the reason was not far to seek.  Before his visit to Scotland, it would have mattered little to him if any one of his lady friends—­or any half dozen of them, for the matter of that—­had appeared inclined to put some other favorite in his place; for he had an abundant acquaintance in the fashionable world; and, indeed, had grown somewhat callous to their polite attentions.  But Lady Adela and her two sisters were relations of Honnor Cunyngham; they were going down to Brighton this very week; he was anxious (though hardly knowing why) to stand well in their opinion and be of importance in their eyes.  As he now walked home he thought he would go and call on Lady Adela the following afternoon; if she were going down to that house in Adelaide Crescent, there would be plenty of talk among the women-folk; his name might be mentioned.

Next morning there was no further word of Nina.  When he had got his fencing over, he went along to Sloane Street, but hardly with any expectation of news.  No, Estelle had nothing to tell him; Nina had gone away—­and wished to remain undiscovered.

“Poor Nina!” said Estelle, with a sigh.