t venture to. Just a few friends in the evening--if you didn't
think it tiresome? I'll send you a card.'

There entered a tall young man of consumptive features, accompanied by
a stout, florid woman, older than himself; and upon this couple
followed half-a-dozen miscellaneous callers, some of whom Alma knew.
These old acquaintances met her with a curiosity they hardly troubled
to disguise; she herself was reserved, and took no part in the general
chatter. Mrs. Strangeways withdrew into a corner, as if wishing to
escape observation. When Mrs. Rolfe took a chair by her side, she
beamed with gratitude, and their gossip grew quite intimate. Alma could
not understand why Sibyl had stigmatised this woman as 'rapid'--that is
to say, 'fast'; she gabbled, indeed, at a great rate, but revealed no
startling habits of life or thought, and seemed to have rather an
inclination for childish forms of amusement. Before they parted, Alma
gave a promise that she would go to Mrs. Strangeways 'at home' next
Wednesday.

'And your husband, if he would care to come. I should be so delighted
to know him. But perhaps he doesn't care about that kind of thing. I
hate to bore anyone--don't you? But then, of course, you're never in
danger of doing it. So very, _very_ glad to have met you! And so
exceedingly kind of you to promise!--so _very_ kind!'

As Sibyl also was going to Porchester Terrace, they arranged to
chaperon each other and to start from Mrs. Rolfe's hotel.

'It's no use making Harvey uncomfortable,' said Alma. 'He would go if I
asked him but sorely against the grain. He always detested 'at
homes'--except when he came to admire _me_! And he likes to see me
going about independently.'

'Does he?' said Sibyl, with an inquiring look.

'Yes--seriously. We do our best not to encumber each other. Don't you
think it's the best way?'

'No doubt whatever.'

Mrs. Carnaby smiled, and the smile grew to a laugh; but she would not
explain what she meant by it.

On the Wednesday evening, they reached Mrs. Strangeways' house at ten
o'clock. Carriages and cabs made a queue up to the door, and figures
succeeded each other rapidly on the red cloth laid down across the
pavement. Alma was nervous. More than three years had passed since the
fatal evening when, all unconsciously, she said goodbye to social
splendours; from then till now she had taken part in no festivity. The
fact that her name was no longer Frothingham gave her some
encouragement;