y
drawback to the arrangement being the absence of mirrors. However, if he
could not look at himself a great many people could look at him.

Cicely listened to the orchestra as it jerked and strutted through a
fantastic dance measure, and as she listened she looked appreciatively at
the boy on the other side of the table, whose soul for the moment seemed
to be in his cigarette. Her scheme of life, knowing just what you wanted
and taking good care that you got it, was justifying itself by results.
Ronnie, grown tiresome with success, had not been difficult to replace,
and no one in her world had had the satisfaction of being able to condole
with her on the undesirable experience of a long interregnum. To
feminine acquaintances with fewer advantages of purse and brains and
looks she might figure as "that Yeovil woman," but never had she given
them justification to allude to her as "poor Cicely Yeovil." And Murrey,
dear old soul, had cooled down, as she had hoped and wished, from his
white heat of disgust at the things that she had prepared herself to
accept philosophically. A new chapter of their married life and man-and-
woman friendship had opened; many a rare gallop they had had together
that winter, many a cheery dinner gathering and long bridge evening in
the cosy hunting-lodge. Though he still hated the new London and held
himself aloof from most of her Town set, yet he had not shown himself
rigidly intolerant of the sprinkling of Teuton sportsmen who hunted and
shot down in his part of the country.

The orchestra finished its clicking and caracoling and was accorded a
short clatter of applause.

"The Danse Macabre," said Cicely to her companion; "one of Saint-Saens'
best known pieces."

"Is it?" said Larry indifferently; "I'll take your word for it. 'Fraid I
don't know much about music."

"You dear boy, that's just what I like in you," said Cicely; "you're such
a delicious young barbarian."

"Am I?" said Larry. "I dare say. I suppose you know."

Larry's father had been a brilliantly clever man who had married a
brilliantly handsome woman; the Fates had not had the least intention
that Larry should take after both parents.

"The fashion of having one's lunch in the open air has quite caught on
this season," said Cicely; "one sees everybody here on a fine day. There
is Lady Bailquist over there. She used to be Lady Shalem you know,
before her husband got the earldom--to be more correct, before she