n the library, in close proximity to a considerable
fire--he learnt that their summer wanderings that year had been of
no extensive nature, and that they had come into residence a week
ago.

They had spent a month in a country house in Berkshire, the old lady
told him presently, adding, with an explanatory grimace, that it was
a house which belonged to a relation--the sort of place where one
had to visit now and again; where a month went a very long way;
where one had to draw largely on one's courtesy--on one's hypocrisy
(if he preferred the word), not to throw up the cards at once, and
retire after the first week.

Rainham gathered from her resigned animadversions that the relations
must be by marriage only: there was no Gallic quality in the
atmosphere she described.

It was a very nice house--Jacobean, she believed--or, rather, it
would have been nice if they had had it to themselves. Unfortunately,
it was very full: there were a great many stupid men who shot all
day, and as many stupid women who talked scandal and went to
sleep after dinner; also there were several pairs--or did one say
"brace"?--of young people who flirted, but they lived in the
conservatories. When one did not go to sleep after dinner, one
played round games, or baccarat. She herself had refused to play,
although they had wished to make her; personally, she preferred to
go to sleep, or to listen to Mary's music. Yes, Mary was more
fortunate: they had a very good piano, and an organ. Mary's music
was a great success, although her admirers were apt to confuse
Offenbach with Chopin; and some of the women appeared to think it
was not quite ladylike to play so well, with such a professional
manner. Still, Mary's music was a success, and that was more than
could be said of her own conversation. That had been a distinct
failure! They seemed to think she wished to make fun of things--of
sacred things, the game laws, and agriculture, and the Established
Church. Of course, she had no such intention: it was only that she
wished for information, for instruction in these difficult national
institutions, which, long as she had made her home in England, she
feared she would never thoroughly comprehend.

Mary had sat silently, with her hands clasped across her knees,
while her aunt placidly poured forth these and similar comments
(which were interspersed by questions and sympathetic monosyllables
from Rainham), not so much acrimoniously, as in the tone of