dence without reservation between them,
notwithstanding a slight tinge of the histrionic in Madeline, which
occasionally irritated Bertha. But the real link was that they both
instinctively threw overboard all but the essential; they cared
comparatively little for most of the preoccupations and smaller
solicitudes of the women in their own leisured class. There was in
neither of them anything of the social snob or the narrow outlook of the
bourgeoise; they were free from pose, petty ambitions, or trivial
affectations.

Madeline looked up to Bertha as a wonderful combination of kindness,
cleverness, beauty and knowledge of the world. Bertha felt that Madeline
was not quite so well equipped for dealing with life as she herself was;
there was a shade of protection in her friendship.

Bertha was far more daring than Madeline, but her occasional recklessness
was only pluck and love of adventure; not imprudence; it was always
guided by reason and an instinctive sense of self-preservation. She
was a little experimental, that was all. Madeline was more timid and
sensitive; though not nearly so quick to see things as Bertha she took
them to heart more, far more;--was far less lively and ironical.

"Though I find Rupert dull, as I say, I believe he's as good as gold, or
I wouldn't try and help you. Now if he were a man like Nigel!--who's
very much more fascinating and charming--I wouldn't raise a finger,
because I know he's fickle, dangerous and selfish, and wouldn't make you
happy. Charlie would, though; I wish you liked Charlie. But one can't
account for these things."

"Quite impossible," Madeline said, shaking her head.

"Well! It's quite possible that Rupert would suit you best; and I
believe if you once got him he'd be all right. And you shall!" she
repeated.

"_Thank_ you!" said Madeline fervently, as if Bertha had promised her a
box of chocolates or a present of some kind.

"Lady Kellynch!" announced the servant.

CHAPTER II

LADY KELLYNCH

A tall, stately, handsome woman, slow and quiet in movement, dressed in
velvet and furs, came deliberately into the room. The magnificent,
imposing Lady Kellynch had that quiet dignity and natural ease and
distinction sometimes seen in the widow of a knight, but unknown amongst
the old aristocracy. It was generally supposed, or, at all events,
stated, that the late Sir Percy Kellynch had been knighted by mistake
for somebody else; through a muddle owing to somebody