ortraits, which were more historical than actual. Although
conspicuously anti-Victorian she had a Victorian beauty of the
impressive kind; she had it still. Her hair was of a dark lustrous brown
and showed no grey. In figure she was tall, and rather more than plump
and rather less than fat. Her perfect and perfectly worn clothes proved
that she knew just how to deal with herself. She would look forty in a
theatre, fifty in a garden, and sixty to her maid at dawn.

This important person spoke, when she did speak, with a scarcely
perceptible French accent in a fine clear voice. But she spoke little
and said practically nothing: which was a shock to Marian Prohack, who
had imagined that in the circles graced by Lady Massulam conversation
varied from badinage to profundity and never halted. It was not that
Lady Massulam was tongue-tied, nor that she was impolite; it was merely
that with excellent calmness she did not talk. If anybody handed her a
subject, she just dropped it; the floor around her was strewn with
subjects.

The lunch was dreadful, socially. It might have been better if Charlie's
family had not been tormented by the tremendous question: what had
Charlie to do with Lady Massulam? Already Charlie's situation was
sufficient of a mystery, without this arch-mystery being spread all over
it. And inexperienced Charlie was a poor host; as a host he was
positively pathetic, rivalling Lady Massulam in taciturnity.

Sissie took to chaffing her brother, and after a time Charlie said
suddenly, with curtness:

"Have you dropped that silly dance-scheme of yours, kid?"

Sissie was obliged to admit that she had.

"Then I tell you what you might do. You might come and live here with me
for a bit. I want a hostess, you know."

"I will," said Sissie, straight. No consultation of parents!

This brief episode overset Mrs. Prohack. The lunch worsened, to such a
point that Mr. Prohack began to grow light-hearted, and chaffed Charlie
in his turn. He found material for chaff in the large number of newly
bought books that were lying about the room. There was even the
_Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics_ in eleven volumes. Queer
possessions for a youth who at home had never read aught but the
periodical literature of automobilism! Could this be the influence of
Lady Massulam? Then the telephone bell rang, and it was like a signal of
salvation. Charlie sprang at the instrument.

"For you," he said, indicating Lady Massulam, w