trying to be offended, but she could not succeed. It was
nearly impossible to be angry with Bertha, when she was present. There
were many reasons for this. Bertha had a small arched mouth, teeth that
were tiny and white and marvellously regular, a dimple in her left
cheek, long eyelashes that gave a veiled look to the eyes, and a
generally very live-wax-dollish appearance which was exceedingly
disarming. There was a touch, too, of the china shepherdess about her.
But, of course, she was not really like a doll, nor remote from life;
she was very real, living and animated; though she had for the
connoisseur all the charm of an exquisite _bibelot_ that is not for
sale.

* * * * *

Bertha was twenty-eight, but looked younger than her age. Madeline might
have been her senior. Under this peachlike appearance, and with the
premeditated _naivete_ of her manner, she was always astonishing people
by her penetration and general ingenuity; she was at once very quick and
very deep--quick especially to perceive and enjoy incongruities, and
deep in understanding them; extremely observant, and not in the least
superficial. Almost her greatest interest was the study of character;
she had an intellectual passion for going below the surface, and finding
out the little _coins inedits_ of the soul. She was rather unpractical,
but only in execution, and she had the gift of getting the practical
side of life well done for her, not letting it be neglected. Her
bonbonniere of a drawing-room seemed to be different from ordinary
rooms, though one hardly knew in what; partly from the absence of
superfluities; and somehow after many a triumph over the bewilderment of
a sulky yet dazzled decorator, Bertha had contrived, in baffling him, to
make the house look distinguished without being unconventional; dainty
without being artificial; she had made it suit her perfectly and, what
was more, the atmosphere was reposeful. Her husband always besought her
to do anything on earth she wished in her own home, rather in the same
way that one would give an intelligent canary _carte blanche_ about the
decoration of what was supposed to be its cage.

Percy Kellynch, the husband--he was spoken of as the husband (people
said: "Is that the husband?" or "What's the husband like?")--was a
rather serious-looking barrister with parliamentary ambitions, two mild
hobbies (which took the form of Tschaikowsky at the Queen's Hall and
squas