ent a part. He had only time to tell Mavis how she more
resembled her mother than her father when a move was made for the
dining-room. Mavis was taken down by Windebank.

"Thank you," she said in an undertone, when they had reached the
landing.

"What for?"

"All you've done."

He turned on her such a look of pain that she did not say any more.

Windebank sat on her right; General Sir William Ludlow on her left.
Directly opposite was a little pasty-faced woman with small, bright
eyes. Victoria, by virtue of her relationship to Major Perigal, faced
her father-in-law at the bottom of the table; upon her right sat the
most distinguished-looking man Mavis had ever seen. Tall, finely
proportioned, with noble, regular features, surmounted by grey hair, he
suggested to Mavis a fighting bishop of the middle ages: she wondered
who he was. The soldier on her left talked incessantly, but, to Mavis's
surprise, he made no mention of his campaigns; he spoke of nothing else
but rose culture, his persistent ill-luck at flower shows, the
unfairness of the judging. The meal was long and, even to Mavis, to
whom a dinner party was in the nature of an experience, tedious.

Infrequent relief was supplied by the pasty-faced woman opposite, who
was the General's wife; she did her best to shock the susceptibilities
of those present by being in perpetual opposition to their stolid views.

An elderly woman, whose face showed the ravages of time upon what must
have been considerable beauty (somehow she looked rather disreputable),
had referred to visits she had paid, when in London for the season, to
a sister who lived in Eccleston Square.

"Such a dreadful neighbourhood!" she complained. "It made me quite ill
to go there."

"I love it," declared Lady Ludlow.

"That part of London!" exclaimed the faded beauty.

"Why not? Whatever life may be there, it is honest in its
unconcealment. And to be genuine is to be noble."

"You're joking, Kate," protested the faded beauty.

"I'm doing nothing of the kind. Give me Pimlico," declared Lady Ludlow
emphatically.

At mention of Pimlico, Mavis and Windebank involuntarily glanced into
each other's eyes; the name of this district recalled many memories to
their minds.

When dinner was over, Mavis had hardly reached the drawing-room with
the women-folk, when Lady Ludlow pounced upon her.

"I've been so anxious to meet you," she declared. "You're one of the
lucky ones."

"Since when am I lu