me to-day from many mysterious (and therefore delightful) places which
Honora knew only by name, and some had driven the twenty-five odd miles
from the bunting community of Banbury in coaches and even those new and
marvellous importations--French automobiles. When the game had ended,
and Lily Dallam was cajoling the club steward to set her tea-table at
once, a group of these visitors halted on the lawn, talking and laughing
gayly. Two of the younger men Honora recognized with a start, but for a
moment she could not place them--until suddenly she remembered that she
had seen them on her wedding trip at Hot Springs. The one who lisped was
Mr. Cuthbert, familiarly known as "Toots": the other, taller and slimmer
and paler, was Jimmy Wing. A third, the regularity of whose features
made one wonder at the perfection which nature could attain when she
chose, who had a certain Gallic appearance (and who, if the truth be
told, might have reminded an impartial eye of a slightly animated wax
clothing model), turned, stared, hesitated, and bowed to Lily Dallam.

"That's Reggie Farwel, who did my house in town," she whispered to
Honora. "He's never been near me since it was finished. He's utterly
ruined."

Honora was silent. She tried not to look at the group, in which there
were two women of very attractive appearance, and another man.

"Those people are so superior," Mrs. Dallam continued.

"I'm not surprised at Elsie Shorter. Ever since she married Jerry she's
stuck to the Graingers closer than a sister. That's Cecil Grainger,
my dear, the man who looks as though he were going to fall asleep any
moment. But to think of Abby Kame acting that way! Isn't it ridiculous,
Clara?" she cried, appealing to Mrs. Trowbridge. "They say that Cecil
Grainger never leaves her side. I knew her when she first married John
Kame, the dearest, simplest man that ever was. He was twenty years older
than Abby, and made his money in leather. She took the first steamer
after his funeral and an apartment in a Roman palace for the winter. As
soon as she decently could she made for England. The English will put up
with anybody who has a few million dollars, and I don't deny that Abby's
good-looking, and clever in her way. But it's absurd for her to come
over here and act as though we didn't exist. She needn't be afraid that
I'll speak to her. They say she became intimate with Bessie Grainger
through charities. One of your friend Mrs. Holt's charities, by th