nthusiasms."

Wharton's upper lip twitched a little.

"And you are quite sure that Busbridge Towers has nothing to do with
it?" he said suddenly, looking round upon her.

Busbridge Towers was the fine ancestral seat which belonged to Lady
Selina's father, that very respectable and ancient peer, Lord Alresford,
whom an ungrateful party had unaccountably omitted--for the first
time--from the latest Conservative administration.

"Of course we perfectly understand," replied Lady Selina, scornfully,
"that your side--and especially your Socialist friends, put down all
that _we_ do and say to greed and selfishness. It is our
misfortune--hardly our fault."

"Not at all," said Wharton, quietly, "I was only trying to convince you
that it is a little difficult to drive feeling out of politics. Do you
suppose our host succeeds? You perceive?--this is a Radical house--and a
Radical banquet?"

He pushed the _menu_ towards her significantly. Then his eye travelled
with its usual keen rapidity over the room, over the splendid
dinner-table, with its display of flowers and plate, and over the
assembled guests. He and Lady Selina were dining at the hospitable board
of a certain rich manufacturer, who drew enormous revenues from the
west, had formed part of the Radical contingent of the last Liberal
ministry, and had especially distinguished himself by a series of
uncompromising attacks on the ground landlords of London.

Lady Selina sighed.

"It is all a horrible tangle," she said, "and what the next twenty years
will bring forth who can tell? Oh! one moment, Mr. Wharton, before I
forget. Are you engaged for Saturday week?"

He drew a little note-book out of his pocket and consulted it. It
appeared that he was not engaged.

"Then will you dine with us?" She lightly mentioned the names of four or
five distinguished guests, including the Conservative Premier of the
day. Wharton made her a little ceremonious bow.

"I shall be delighted. Can you trust me to behave?"

Lady Selina's smile made her his match for the moment.

"Oh! we can defend ourselves!" she said. "By the way I think you told me
that Mr. Raeburn was not a friend of yours."

"No," said Wharton, facing her look with coolness. "If you have asked
Mr. Raeburn for the 23rd, let me crave your leave to cancel that note in
my pocket-book. Not for my sake, you understand, at all."

She had difficulty in concealing her curiosity. But his face betrayed
nothing. It always