doesn't know," said Mr. Brent, laconically, and readdressed
himself to Honora, who had, however, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chandos'
face.

"Don't you think it's time for you to talk to Mrs. Chandos?" she asked.

"What for?"

"Well, for one reason, it is customary, out of consideration for the
hostess, to assist in turning the table."

"Lily doesn't care," he said.

"How about Mrs. Chandos? I have an idea that she does care."

He made a gesture of indifference.

"And how about me?" Honora continued. "Perhaps--I'd like to talk to Mr.
Dallam."

"Have you ever tried it?" he demanded.

Over her shoulder she flashed back at him a glance which he did not
return. She had never, to tell the truth, given her husband's partner
much consideration. He had existed in her mind solely as an obliging
shopkeeper with whom Lily had unlimited credit, and who handed her over
the counter such things as she desired. And to-night, in contrast
to Trixton Brent, Sidney Dallam suggested the counter more than ever
before. He was about five and forty, small, neatly made, with little
hands and feet; fast growing bald, and what hair remained to him was a
jet black. His suavity of manner and anxious desire to give one just the
topic that pleased had always irritated Honora.

Good shopkeepers are not supposed to have any tastes, predilections, or
desires of their own, and it was therefore with no little surprise
that, after many haphazard attempts, Honora discovered Mr. Dallam to
be possessed by one all-absorbing weakness. She had fallen in love,
she remarked, with little Sid on the beach, and Sidney Dallam suddenly
became transfigured. Was she fond of children? Honora coloured a little,
and said "yes." He confided to her, with an astonishing degree of
feeling, that it had been the regret of his life he had not had more
children. Nobody, he implied, who came to his house had ever exhibited
the proper interest in Sid.

"Sometimes," he said, leaning towards her confidentially, "I slip
upstairs for a little peep at him after dinner."

"Oh," cried Honora, "if you're going to-night mayn't I go with you? I'd
love to see him in bed."

"Of course I'll take you," said Sidney Dallam, and he looked at her so
gratefully that she coloured again.

"Honora," said Lily Dallam, when the women were back in the
drawing-room, "what did you do to Sid? You had him beaming--and he hates
dinner parties."

"We were talking about children," replied Honora, in