in
very often as provoking interruptions to the great business of life,
namely eating, drinking, dining out, giving dinners, or attending
the endless succession of at-homes, dances, musical evenings, amateur
theatricals, by which Greyshot people tried to kill time.

As to taking any intelligent interest in the political world, no one
seemed to dream of such a thing, except Mr. Fane-Smith, who read the
paper at breakfast, and hurled anathemas at all the statesmen whom Erica
had learned to love and revere. It taxed her patience to the utmost to
sit through the daily diatribe against Sir Michael Cunningham, her hero
of heroes. But even the violent opposition seemed preferable to the want
of interest shown by the others. Mrs. Fane-Smith had time to fritter
away at least half an hour after breakfast in the most desultory
conversation, the most fruitless discussions with Rose as to some detail
of dress; but she always made the excuse that she "had no time" to
read the papers, and amused Erica not a little by asking her husband
if "anything particular had been happening lately," when they were just
starting for a dinner party. Out of his little rechauffe of the week's
news she probably extracted enough information to enable her to display
that well-bred interest, that vague and superficial acquaintance with
the subject which will pass muster in society, and which probably
explains alike the very vapid talk and the wildly false accusations
which form the staple of ordinary conversation.

Rose was even more perplexing. She was not only ignorant, but she
boasted of her ignorance. Again and again Erica heard her deprecate the
introduction of any public question.

"Oh, don't begin to talk of that!" she would exclaim. "I know nothing
about it, and never mean to know anything."

Or there would be an imploring appeal.

"Why do you waste your time in talking politics when you have never told
me a word about so-and-so's wedding?"

She occasionally read the "Court Circular," and was rather fond of
one or two of the "society" papers from which she used to glean choice
little paragraphs of personal gossip.

Once one of these papers gave Erica an uncomfortable experience. The
elders of the party being out for the evening, Rose and Erica had the
drawing room to themselves, and Erica was really enjoying the rare
novelty of talking with a girl of her own age. Rose, although the most
arrant little flirt, was fond, too, of her girl frie