's wishes, some five or six years before this. Catharine was
poor, the wife of a clergyman with young children. Lady Tranmore
sometimes wondered whether Mary was quite as good to her as she might
be. She herself sent Catharine various presents in the course of the
year for the children.

--Yes, it was certainly surprising that Mary had not married. Lady
Tranmore's thoughts were running on this tack when of a sudden her eyes
were caught by the placard of one of the evening papers.

"Interview with Mr. Cliffe. Peace assured." So ran one of the lines.

"Geoffrey Cliffe home again!" Lady Tranmore's tone betrayed a shade of
contemptuous amusement.

"We shall have to get on without our daily telegram. Poor London!"

If at that moment it had occurred to her to look at her companion, she
would have seen a quick reddening of Mary's cheeks.

"He has had a great success, though, with his telegrams!" replied Miss
Lyster. "I should have thought one couldn't deny that."

"Success! Only with the people who don't matter," said Lady Tranmore,
with a shrug. "Of what importance is it to anybody that Geoffrey Cliffe
should telegraph his doings and his opinions every morning to the
English public?"

We were in the midst of a disagreement with America. A whirlwind was
unloosed, and as it happened Geoffrey Cliffe was riding it. For that
gentleman had not succeeded in the designs which were occupying his mind
when he had first made Kitty's acquaintance in the Grosvilles'
country-house. He had desired an appointment in Egypt; but it had not
been given him, and after some angry restlessness at home, he had once
more taken up a pilgrim's staff and departed on fresh travels, bound
this time for the Pamirs and Thibet. After nearly three years, during
which he had never ceased, through the newspapers and periodicals, to
keep his opinions and his personality before the public, he had been
heard of in China, and as returning home by America. He arrived at San
Francisco just as the dispute had broken out, was at once captured by an
English paper, and sent to New York, with <i>carte blanche</i>. He had risen
with alacrity to the situation. Thenceforward for some three weeks,
England found a marvellous series of large-print telegrams, signed
"Geoffrey Cliffe," awaiting her each morning on her breakfast-table.

"'The President and I met this morning'--'The President considers, and I
agree with him'--'I told the President'--etc.--'The President th