The Countess Olga de Coude was twenty. Her husband forty. She was a very faithful andloyal wife, but as she had had nothing whatever to do with the selection of a husband, it is not at all unlikely that she was not w ildly and passionately in love with the one that fate and her titled Russian father had selected for her. However, simply because she was surprised into a tiny exclamation of approval at sight of a splendid young stranger it must not be inferred therefrom that her thoughts were in any way disloyal to her spouse. She merely admired, as she might have admired a particularly fine specimen of any species. Furthermore, the young man was unquestionably good to look at.