ustained. Mrs. Kame had adaptably chosen the
attitude, after a glance around her, that Honora preferred Highlawns
to the world: a choice of which she let it be known that she approved,
while deploring that a frivolous character put such a life out of the
question for herself. She made her point without over-emphasis. On
the other hand, Honora had read Mrs. Kame. No very careful perusal
was needed to convince her that the lady was unmoral, and that in
characteristics she resembled the chameleon. But she read deeper. She
perceived that Mrs. Kame was convinced that she, Honora, would adjust
herself to the new conditions after a struggle; and that while she had
a certain sympathy in the struggle, Mrs. Kame was of opinion that
the sooner it was over with the better. All women were born to be
disillusionized. Such was the key, at any rate, to the lady's conduct
that evening at dinner, when she capped the anecdotes of Mr. Pembroke
and Mrs. Rindge and even of Chiltern with others not less risque but
more fastidiously and ingeniously suggestive. The reader may be spared
their recital.

Since the meeting in the restaurant the day before, which had resulted
in Hugh's happy inspiration that the festival begun should be continued
indefinitely at Highlawns, a kind of freemasonry had sprung up between
the four. Honora found herself, mercifully, outside the circle: for such
was the lively character of the banter that a considerable adroitness
was necessary to obtain, between the talk and--laughter, the ear of
the company. And so full were they of the reminiscences which had been
crowded into the thirty hours or so they had spent together, that her
comparative silence remained unnoticed. To cite an example, Mr. Pembroke
was continually being addressed as the Third Vice-president, an allusion
that Mrs. Rindge eventually explained.

"You ought to have been with us coming up on the train," she cried to
Honora; "I thought surely we'd be put off. We were playing bridge in
the little room at the end of the car when the conductor came for our
tickets. Georgie had 'em in his pocket, but he told the man to go
away, that he was the third vice-president of the road, and we were his
friends. The conductor asked him if he were Mr. Wheeler, or some such
name, and Georgie said he was surprised he didn't know him. Well, the
man stood there in the door, and Georgie picked up his hand and made it
hearts--or was it diamonds, Georgie?"

"Spades," said t