Unnerved for a moment by the second girl's appearance, the lad withdrew, only to return a moment later to the object of his silent adoration. I saw the pale dark-haired girl, a solemn little spy, reappear and speak to Miss Jones again. I swear I could read the words on her lips. “It's that man, Car'-he's watching you again!” Miss Jones finished her task and stood up. She walked away to where the other girl was standing. If you have any further doubts as to her moral character, lay them to rest. With her back to the lad, Miss Jones bent over tightly, as if offering a final derisive view of what he loved so much, and looked round at the same time to see what effect her display had upon him! The sight of her backside's trim round cheeks presented in so vulgar a manner made him tremble as if in a mild seizure. He turned a moment later, thoughtful and subdued. I was intrigued to see that the hammerhead had vanished as by the wave of a magician's wand. With a malicious light in the catlike beauty of her face and a giggle on her lips, Miss Jones drew back into the shadows. When the randy young bitch returned to the Villa Lola, I had been there some time and was dressing for dinner. Hearing sounds of her in the next bedroom, I could not resist making use of the convenient peep-hole which a previous master had installed. It was not mere voyeurism on my part, Gussie. I had already watched Miss Jones display herself to her admirers in a manner which had clearly given her a secret satisfaction, however much she appeared to scorn their attention. Now I longed to see what the true effect of it would be upon the little wriggler herself. Making not a sound, I sat on a chair, removed the little round shutter, and applied my eye to the aperture. Miss Jones was standing before the long mirror, admiring herself. The dark slanting eyes with their tight heavy lids were motionless, the tall brow, sharp nose and fine-boned features made a study in immobility and composure. She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she might restrain her triumph until she received a visit from the man to whose pleasure Mr. Bowler has assigned her. Can you not guess, my dear cousin? It is “Signore,” the sublime poet of Patria and Amore-our neighbour- whose needs Miss Jones serves. Yet he has many calls on his time and might not have had the leisure to ride her round love's steeplechase last night. So it proved to be.