y telegram miscarried. Poor Mr. Holt was nearly out of his head."

She fumbled for her glasses and dropped them. Honora picked them up,
and it was then she perceived that the tears were raining down the good
lady's cheeks. At the same moment they sprang into Honora's eyes, and
blinded her. Mrs. Holt looked at her long and earnestly.

"Go down, my dear," she said gently, "you must not neglect your friends.
They will wonder where you are. And at what time do you breakfast?"

"At--at any time you like."

"I shall be down at eight," said Mrs. Holt, and she kissed her.

Honora, closing the door, stood motionless in the hall, and presently
the footsteps and the laughter and the sound of carriage wheels on the
gravel died away.

CHAPTER XI. CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS

Honora, as she descended, caught a glimpse of the parlour maid picking
up the scattered cards on the drawing-room floor. There were voices on
the porch, where Howard was saying good-by to Mrs. Chandos and Trixton
Brent. She joined them.

"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Chandos, interrupting Honora's apologies, "I'm
sure I shan't sleep a wink--she gave me such a fright. You might have
sent Trixy ahead to prepare us. When I first caught sight of her,
I thought it was my own dear mother who had come all the way from
Cleveland, and the cigarette burned my fingers. But I must say I
think it was awfully clever of you to get hold of her and save Trixy's
reputation. Good night, dear."

And she got into her carriage.

"Give my love to Mrs. Holt," said Brent, as he took Honora's hand,
"and tell her I feel hurt that she neglected to say good night to me.
I thought I had made an impression. Tell her I'll send her a cheque for
her rescue work. She inspires me with confidence."

Howard laughed.

"I'll see you to-morrow, Brent," he called out as they drove away.
Though always assertive, it seemed to Honora that her husband had an
increased air of importance as he turned to her now with his hands in
his pockets. He looked at her for a moment, and laughed again. He,
too, had apparently seen the incident only in a humorous light. "Well,
Honora," he remarked, "you have a sort of a P. T. Barnum way of doing
things once in a while--haven't you? Is the old lady really tucked away
for the night, or is she coming down to read us a sermon? And how the
deuce did you happen to pick her up?"

She had come downstairs with confession on her lips, and in the
agitation of her m