ple before; they have a manner--oh! Of
course Mr. Widdowson will take you to call upon her.'

'When nobody else is likely to be there; that's what she meant,'
remarked Monica coldly.

'Never mind, my love. You don't wish for grand society. I am very glad
to tell you that Edmund impresses me very favourably. He is reserved,
but that is no fault. Oh, we must write to Alice at once! Her surprise!
Her delight!'

When, on the next day, Monica met her betrothed in Regent's Park--she
still lived with Mildred Vesper, but no longer went to Great Portland
Street--their talk was naturally of Mrs. Luke. Widdowson speedily led
to the topic.

'I had told you,' he said, with careful accent, 'that I see very little
of her. I can't say that I like her, but she is a very difficult person
to understand, and I fancy she often gives offence when she doesn't at
all mean it. Still, I hope you were not--displeased?'

Monica avoided a direct answer.

'Shall you take me to see her?' were her words.

'If you will go, dear. And I have no doubt she will be present at our
wedding. Unfortunately, she's my only relative; or the only one I know
anything about. After our marriage I don't think we shall see much of
her--'

'No, I dare say not,' was Monica's remark. And thereupon they turned to
pleasanter themes.

That morning Widdowson had received from his sister-in-law a scribbled
post-card, asking him to call upon Mrs. Luke early the day that
followed. Of course this meant that the lady was desirous of further
talk concerning Miss Madden. Unwillingly, but as a matter of duty, he
kept the appointment. It was at eleven in the morning, and, when
admitted to the flat in Victoria Street which was his relative's abode,
he had to wait a quarter of an hour for the lady's appearance.

Luxurious fashion, as might have been expected, distinguished Mrs.
Luke's drawing-room. Costly and beautiful things superabounded; perfume
soothed the air. Only since her bereavement had Mrs. Widdowson been
able to indulge this taste for modern exuberance in domestic adornment.
The deceased Luke was a plain man of business, who clung to the
fashions which had been familiar to him in his youth; his second wife
found a suburban house already furnished, and her influence with him
could not prevail to banish the horrors amid which he chose to live:
chairs in maroon rep, Brussels carpets of red roses on a green ground,
horse-hair sofas of the most uncomfortable shape ever