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Miss Jeannette L. Urmy, with her veil lifted, and relieved of her voluminous coat, was, he had to admit, distractingly pretty; not at all the type he had pictured as the original of the name. He even ventured to think that Miss Urmy's mind had become obscured on that point by those well, indiscreet lines in the Morning Post. They had upset him; then why not her? They were so premature.
I picked him out in my sample book of the aristocracy, and when I fitted the name on to Jeannette the Countess of Chilminster it sounded quite elegant." "Then it wasn't because you knew I knew him?" demanded Mrs. Urmy's hostess with growing amazement. Mrs. Urmy's face took on a blank expression. "You've heard me mention the name. That's how it's pronounced," explained Lady Hartley.
Lady Hartley hurried to the window, gave one look, and doubted the evidence of her eyes. "Lavinia, it's Lord Chilminster!" she cried, with a catch in her voice. The two women flashed a glance brimful of significance at one another. Lady Hartley's expressed uncertainty; Mrs. Urmy's triumph sheer, complete, perfect triumph. "Didn't I say it was a sure thing?" she shrilled excitedly.
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