they found Mrs. Delville and the man who went by the nick-name of
The Dancing Master. By that time Mrs. Mallowe was awake and eloquent.

'That is the Creature!' said Mrs. Hauksbee, with the air of one pointing
out a slug in the road.

'No,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'The man is the Creature. Ugh! Good-evening,
Mr. Bent. I thought you were coming to tea this evening.'

'Surely it was for to-morrow, was it not?' answered The Dancing Master.
'I understood I fancied I'm so sorry How very unfortunate!'

But Mrs. Mallowe had passed on.

'For the practised equivocator you said he was,' murmured Mrs. Hauksbee,
'he strikes me as a failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a
walk with The Dowd to tea with us? Elective affinities, I suppose both
grubby. Polly, I'd never forgive that woman as long as the world rolls.'

'I forgive every woman everything,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'He will be a
sufficient punishment for her. What a common voice she has!'

Mrs. Delville's voice was not pretty, her carriage was even less lovely,
and her raiment was strikingly neglected. All these things Mrs. Mallowe
noticed over the top of a magazine.

'Now what is there in her?' said Mrs. Hauksbee. 'Do you see what I meant
about the clothes falling off? If I were a man I would perish sooner
than be seen with that rag-bag. And yet, she has good eyes, but Oh!'

'What is it?'

'She doesn't know how to use them! On my honour, she does not. Look! Oh
look! Untidiness I can endure, but ignorance never! The woman's a fool.'

'Hsh! She'll hear you.'

'All the women in Simla are fools. She'll think I mean some one else.
Now she's going out. What a thoroughly objectionable couple she and The
Dancing Master make! Which reminds me. Do you suppose they'll ever dance
together?'

'Wait and see. I don't envy her the conversation of The Dancing Master
loathly man! His wife ought to be up here before long?'

'Do you know anything about him?'

'Only what he told me. It may be all a fiction. He married a girl bred
in the country, I think, and, being an honourable, chivalrous soul, told
me that he repented his bargain and sent her to her as often as possible
a person who has lived in the Doon since the memory of man and goes to
Mussoorie when other people go Home. The wife is with her at present. So
he says.'

'Babies?'

'One only, but he talks of his wife in a revolting way. I hated him for
it. He thought he was being epigrammatic and brilliant.'

'That is