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Archer raised his eyebrows enquiringly at Nastasia, who raised hers in return with a fatalistic "Gia!" as she threw open the drawing-roo man saw at once that his hostess was not in the roo by the fire This lady, as long, lean and loosely put together, was clad in raied, with plaids and stripes and bands of plain colour disposed in a design to which the clue see Her hair, which had tried to turn white and only succeeded in fading, was surmounted by a Spanish comb and black lace scarf, and silk mittens, visibly darned, covered her rheuar-s clothes that they had evidently not taken off since nised Ned Winsett; the other and older, as unknown to hiantic frame declared him to be the wearer of the "Macfarlane," had a feebly leonine head with cruestures, as though he were distributing lay blessings to a kneeling ether on the hearth-rug, their eyes fixed on an extraordinarily large bouquet of crimson roses, with a knot of purple pansies at their base, that lay on the sofa where Madame Olenska usually sat

"What they h of course it's the senti staccato as Archer came in

The three turned with surprise at his appearance, and the lady, advancing, held out her hand

"Dear Mr Archer--almost my cousin Newland!" she said "I am the Marchioness Manson"

Archer bowed, and she continued: "My Ellen has taken me in for a few days I ca the winter with Spanish friends--such delightful distinguished people: the highest nobility of old Castile--hoish you could know thereat friend here, Dr Carver You don't know Dr Agathon Carver, founder of the Valley of Love Community?"

Dr Carver inclined his leonine head, and the Marchioness continued: "Ah, New York--New York--how little the life of the spirit has reached it! But I see you do know Mr Winsett"

"Oh, yes--I reached hio; but not by that route," Winsett said with his dry sly "How do you know, Mr Winsett? The spirit blohere it listeth"

"List--oh, list!" interjected Dr Carver in a stentorian murmur