"My mother's name is Gerano, Princess of Gerano," said Laura, by way of explanation, as they came within sight of her.
"And is your father—I mean, is Prince Gerano—living?" asked Arden. He had almost forgotten her name and her nationality in the interest he felt in herself.
"Yes; but he rarely goes into society. I am very fond of him," she added, scarcely knowing why. "Mother," she said, as they came up to the Princess, "Lord Herbert Arden."
The Princess smiled and held out her hand. At that moment Pietro Ghisleri came up. He had not been seen since he had left Laura and Arden together. By a coincidence, doubtless, the Contessa dell' Armi had disappeared at about the same time: she had probably gone home, as she was not seen again in the ball-room that evening. But the world in its omniscience knew that there was a certain boudoir beyond the supper-room, where couples who did not care to dance were left in comparative peace for a long time. The world could have told with precision the position of the small sofa on which Ghisleri and the lovely Contessa invariably spent an hour when they met in that particular house.
"Will you give me a turn, Miss Carlyon?" asked Ghisleri, as Arden began to talk with the Princess.
"Yes." Laura was really fond of a certain amount of dancing when a good partner presented himself.
"What do you think of my friend?" inquired Pietro, as they moved away together.
"I like him very much. He interests me."
"Then you ought to be grateful to me for bringing him to you."
"Do you expect gratitude in a ball-room?" Laura laughed a little, more in pleasant anticipation of the waltz than at what she said.