le do; not that I think much of other people, but, you do know
what it is--one feels so much more comfortable," and her skirts rustled.
"But, Dick, whatever happens"--her voice entreated--"do let Antonia get
her judgments secondhand. Never mind for me--if I must form opinions for
myself, I must--but don't let her; any old opinions so long as they are
old. It 's dreadful to have to think out new ones for oneself." And he
awoke. His dream had had in it the element called Art, for, in its gross
absurdity, Mrs. Dennant had said things that showed her soul more fully
than anything she would have said in life.

"No," said a voice quite close, behind the hedge, "not many Frenchmen,
thank the Lord! A few coveys of Hungarians over from the Duke's. Sir
James, some pie?"

Shelton raised himself with drowsy curiosity--still half asleep--and
applied his face to a gap in the high, thick osiers of the hedge. Four
men were seated on camp-stools round a folding-table, on which was a pie
and other things to eat. A game-cart, well-adorned with birds and hares,
stood at a short distance; the tails of some dogs were seen moving
humbly, and a valet opening bottles. Shelton had forgotten that it was
"the first." The host was a soldierly and freckled man; an older man sat
next him, square-jawed, with an absent-looking eye and sharpened nose;
next him, again, there was a bearded person whom they seemed to call the
Commodore; in the fourth, to his alarm, Shelton recognised the gentleman
called Mabbey. It was really no matter for surprise to meet him miles
from his own place, for he was one of those who wander with a valet and
two guns from the twelfth of August to the end of January, and are then
supposed to go to Monte Carlo or to sleep until the twelfth of August
comes again.

He was speaking.

"Did you hear what a bag we made on the twelfth, Sir James?"

"Ah! yes; what was that? Have you sold your bay horse, Glennie?"

Shelton had not decided whether or no to sneak away, when the Commodore's
thick voice began:

"My man tellsh me that Mrs. Foliot--haw--has lamed her Arab. Does she
mean to come out cubbing?"

Shelton observed the smile that came on all their faces. "Foliot 's
paying for his good time now; what a donkey to get caught!" it seemed to
say. He turned his back and shut his eyes.

"Cubbing?" replied Glennie; "hardly."

"Never could shee anything wonderful in her looks," went on the
Commodore; "so quiet, you n