aiting to speak, had been repeatedly baffled by the
hasty speeches of his wife and the unhesitating replies of Trefusis, now
turned angrily upon her, saying:

"What do you mean by inviting that fellow to my house?"

"Your house, indeed! I will invite whom I please. You are getting into
one of your tempers."

Sir Charles looked about him. Erskine had discreetly slipped away, and
was in the road, tightening a screw in his bicycle. The few persons who
remained were out of earshot.

"Who and what the devil is he, and how do you come to know him?" he
demanded. He never swore in the presence of any lady except his wife,
and then only when they were alone.

"He is a gentleman, which is more than you are," she retorted, and, with
a cut of her whip that narrowly missed her husband's shoulder, sent the
bay plunging through the gap.

"Come along," she said to Erskine. "We shall be late for luncheon."

"Had we not better wait for Sir Charles?" he asked injudiciously.

"Never mind Sir Charles, he is in the sulks," she said, without abating
her voice. "Come along." And she went off at a canter, Erskine following
her with a misgiving that his visit was unfortunately timed.

CHAPTER XII

On the following Thursday Gertrude, Agatha, and Jane met for the first
time since they had parted at Alton College. Agatha was the shyest of
the three, and externally the least changed. She fancied herself very
different from the Agatha of Alton; but it was her opinion of herself
that had altered, not her person. Expecting to find a corresponding
alteration in her friends, she had looked forward to the meeting with
much doubt and little hope of its proving pleasant.

She was more anxious about Gertrude than about Jane, concerning whom,
at a brief interview in London, she had already discovered that Lady
Brandon's manner, mind, and speech were just what Miss Carpenter's had
been. But, even from Agatha, Jane commanded more respect than before,
having changed from an overgrown girl into a fine woman, and made a
brilliant match in her first season, whilst many of her pretty, proud,
and clever contemporaries, whom she had envied at school, were still
unmarried, and were having their homes made uncomfortable by parents
anxious to get rid of the burthen of supporting them, and to profit in
purse or position by their marriages.

This was Gertrude's case. Like Agatha, she had thrown away her
matrimonial opportunities. Proud of her rank and e