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"She is still decolletee," he answered, taking an olive in his

long fingers; "and when she is in a very smart gown she looks

like an edition de luxe of a bad French novel. She is really

wonderful, and full of surprises. Her capacity for family

affection is extraordinary. When her third husband died, her hair

turned quite gold from grief."

"How can you, Harry!" cried Dorian.

"It is a most romantic explanation," laughed the hostess. "But

her third husband, Lord Henry! You don't mean to say Ferrol is

the fourth?"

"Certainly, Lady Narborough."

"I don't believe a word of it."

"Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her most intimate friends."

"Is it true, Mr. Gray?"

"She assures me so, Lady Narborough," said Dorian. "I asked her

whether, like Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts

embalmed and hung at her girdle. She told me she didn't, because

none of them had had any hearts at all."

"Four husbands! Upon my word that is trop de zele."

"Trop d'audace, I tell her," said Dorian.