d, opening her arms with the
charming, exotic gesticulation which distinguished her from all other
women. "I enjoy myself awfully."

"What do you do?"

"Everything. And I write to poor Dick three times a week, and tell him
all I haven't done."

"I can't bear the grass-widow," said James.

"Poor boy, you can't bear anything that's amusing! I never knew anyone
with such an ideal of woman as you have--a gloomy mixture of
frumpishness and angularity."

James did not answer.

"Don't you wish we were in London now?" she went on. "You and I
together? I really believe I should have to take you about. You're as
innocent as a babe."

"D'you think so?" said James, rather hurt.

"Now, if we were in town, on our own, what would you do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose make a little party and dine somewhere, and
go to the Savoy to see the 'Mikado.'"

Mrs. Wallace laughed.

"I know. A party of four--yourself and me, and two maiden aunts. And we
should be very prim, and talk about the weather, and go in a growler for
propriety's sake. I know that sort of evening. And after the maiden
aunts had seen me safety home, I should simply howl from boredom. My
dear boy, I'm respectable enough here. When I'm on my own, I want to go
on the loose. Now, I'll tell you what I want to do if ever we are in
town together. Will you promise to do it?"

"If I possibly can."

"All right! Well, you shall fetch me in the fastest hansom you can find,
and remember to tell the driver to go as quick as ever he dare. We'll
dine alone, please, at the most expensive restaurant in London! You'll
engage a table in the middle of the room, and you must see that the
people all round us are very smart and very shady. It always makes me
feel so virtuous to look at disreputable women! Do I shock you?"

"Not more than usual."

"How absurd you are! Then we'll go to the Empire. And after that we'll
go somewhere else, and have supper where the people are still smarter
and still shadier; and then we'll go to Covent Garden Ball. Oh, you
don't know how I long to go on the rampage sometimes! I get so tired of
propriety."

"And what will P. W. say to all this?"

"Oh, I'll write and tell him that I spent the evening with some of his
poor relations, and give eight pages of corroborative evidence."

James thought of Pritchard-Wallace, gentlest and best-humoured of men.
He was a great big fellow, with a heavy moustache and kind eyes; always
ready to stand by anyon