he was outside the fringe; indeed, I don't know how he
kept on his feet so long; but he went downhill fast. A plucker of
plump pigeons, an expensive friend to smart young subalterns and boys
about town. Cards, bets, loans arranged, and that kind of thing. All
the same, he had his good points when I first knew him."

"But after such a life as his daughter must have led, do you consider
her a suitable person to take about with you? What do your friends
think? They have to receive her now and then."

"I can't say that I have much cause to respect my friends' opinions,
and I'm not afraid of the girl's contaminating me," Mrs. Keith replied.
"Besides, Millicent lost her mother early and lived with her aunts
until a few months before her father's death. I expect Eustace felt
more embarrassed than grateful when she came to take care of him, but,
to do him justice, he would see that none of the taint of his
surroundings rested on the girl. He did wrong, but I think he paid for
it, and it is better to be charitable."

She broke off, and glanced down at the big liner with cream-colored
funnel that was slowly swinging across the stream.

"I must send Millicent to buy our tickets for Montreal," she said.
"The hotel will be crowded before long with that steamer's noisy
passengers. I shall be glad to escape from it all. Let us hope that
Montreal will be quieter, and we shall have a chance to see a bit of
Canada."

Mrs. Ashborne opened the _Morning Post_, and presently looked up at her
companion.

"'A marriage--between Blanche Newcombe and Captain Challoner--at
Thornton Holme, in Shropshire,'" she read out. "Do you know the bride?"

"I know Bertram Challoner better," Mrs. Keith replied, and was silent
for a minute or two, musing on former days. "His mother was an old
friend of mine--a woman of imagination, with strong artistic tastes;
and Bertram resembles her. It was his father, the Colonel, who forced
him into the army, and I'm somewhat astonished that he has done so
well."

"They were all soldiers, I understand. But wasn't there some scandal
about a cousin?"

"Richard Blake?" said Mrs. Keith, making room for Millicent Graham, her
companion, who rejoined them. "It's getting an old story, and I always
found it puzzling. So far as one could Judge, Dick, Blake should have
made an excellent officer; his mother, the Colonel's sister, was true
to the Challoner strain, his father a reckless Irish sportsman."

"B