Gwent laughed.

"Not a bit of it! He's the last man in the world to worry himself about love!"

Manella glanced him over with quite a superior air.

"Ah, perhaps you do not know!" And she waved her hands expressively. "There was a wonderful lady came here to see him some weeks ago--she stole up the hill at night, like a spirit--a little, little fairy woman with golden hair--"

Gwent pricked up his ears and stood at attention.

"Yes? Really? You don't say so! 'A little fairy woman'? Sounds like a story!"

"She wore the most lovely clothes"--went on Manella, clasping her hands in ecstasy--"She stayed at the Plaza one night--I waited upon her. I saw her in her bed--she had skin like satin, and eyes like blue stars--her hair fell nearly to her ankles--she was like a dream! And she went up the hill by moonlight all by herself, to find HIM!"

Gwent listened with close interest.

"And I presume she found him?"

Manella nodded, and a sigh escaped her.

"Oh, yes, she found him! He told me that. And I am sure--something tells me HERE" and she pressed one hand against her heart--"by the way he spoke--that he loves her!"

"You seem to be a very observant young woman," said Gwent, smiling--"One would think you were in love with him yourself!"