Poor Ragnall! He was a great English gentleman and one whom when first I knew him, I held to be the most fortunate person I ever met, endowed as he was with every advantage of mind, body and estate.

Yet in the end this did not prove to be the case.
Well, while he lived he was a good friend and a good fellow and none can hope for a better epitaph in a world where all things are soon forgotten.
And now, what was I to do?
To tell the truth I did not altogether desire to reopen this chapter in past history, or to have to listen to painful reminiscences from the lips of a bereaved woman.

Moreover, beautiful as she had been, for doubtless she was _passee_ now, and charming as of course she remained--I do not think I ever knew anyone who was quite so charming--there was something about Lady Ragnall which alarmed me.

She did not resemble any other woman.

Of course no woman is ever quite like another, but in her case the separateness, if I may so call it, was very marked.