her drawing-room. She
threw down the penny novel she was reading, and with a little cry of joy
sprang forward to greet me.

"I'm so glad you've come. I was getting the blind hump!"

Did I not say she was commonplace? I hate this synonym for boredom.
It may be elegant in the mouth of a duchess and pathetic in that of an
oyster-wench, but it falls vulgarly from intermediate lips.

"What has given it to you?" I asked.

"My poor little ouistiti is dead. It is this abominable climate."

I murmured condolences. I could not exhibit unreasonable grief at the
demise of a sick monkey which I had never seen.

"I'm also out of books," she said, after having paid her tribute to the
memory of the departed. "I have been forced to ask the servants to lend
me something to read. Have you ever tried this sort of thing? You ought
to. It tells you what goes on in high society."

I was sure it didn't. Not a duchess in its pages talked about having a
blind hump. I said gravely:

"I will ask you to lend it to me. Since Dale has been away I've had no
one to make out my library list."

"Do turn Adolphus out of that chair and sit down," she said, sinking
into her accustomed seat. Adolphus was the Chow dog before mentioned,
an accomplished animal who could mount guard with the poker and stand on
his head, and had been pleased to favour me with his friendship.

"I miss Dale greatly," said I.

"I suppose you do. You are very fond of him?"

"Very," said I. "By the by, how did you first come across Dale?"

She threw me a swift glance and smiled.

"Oh, in the most respectable way. I was dining at the Carlton with Sir
Joshua Oldfield, the famous surgeon, you know. He performed a silly
little operation on me last year, and since then we've been great
friends. Dale and some sort of baby boy were dining there, too, and
afterwards, in the lounge, Sir Joshua introduced them to me. Dale asked
me if he could call. I said 'Yes.' Perhaps I was wrong. Anyhow, _voila_!
Do you know Sir Joshua?"

"I sat next to him once at a public dinner. He's a friend of the
Kynnersleys. A genial old soul."

"He's a dear!" said Lola.

"Do you know many of Dale's friends?" I asked.

"Hardly any," she replied. "It's rather lonesome." Then she broke into a
laugh.

"I was so terrified at meeting you the first time. Dale can talk of no
one else. He makes a kind of god of you. I felt I was going to hate you
like the devil. I expected quite a different person."