from a contrary disposition; because other people didn't like it, and
even because she didn't like it herself.

Her first visitor was a very old and dear friend of hers whom she
particularly disliked and disapproved of, Lady Virginia Harper. Lady
Virginia was a very tall, thin, faded blonde, still full of shadowy
vitality, who wore a flaxen transformation so obviously artificial that
not the most censorious person by the utmost stretch of malice could
assume it was meant to deceive the public. With equal candour she wore a
magnificent set of teeth, and a touch of rouge on each cheek-bone. To
Aunt William's extreme annoyance Lady Virginia was dressed to-day in a
strange medley of the artistic style combined oddly with a rather wild
attempt at Parisian smartness. That is to say, in her cloak and furs she
looked almost like an outside coloured plate on the cover of _Paris
Fashions_; while when she threw it open one could see that she wore a
limp _crepe de chine_ Empire gown of an undecided mauve, with a waist
under the arms and puffed sleeves. On her head was a very smart bright
blue flower toque, put on entirely wrong, with a loose blue veil hanging
at the back. Had anything been required to decide the question of her
looking grotesque, I should mention that she wore long mauve _suede_
gloves. That settled it. A gold bag dangled from her left wrist, and she
carried a little fan of carved ivory. She looked, naturally,--or
unnaturally--slightly absurd, but had great distinction and no sort of
affectation, while an expression that alternated between amiable
enthusiasm and absent-minded depression characterised her shadowy
indefinite features.

Aunt William received her with self-control, and she immediately asked
for tea.

"Certainly. It is half-past three, and I regard five as tea-time. But as
you wish, dear Virginia." Aunt William pulled the bell with manly vigour
and ill-tempered hospitality.

"Have you heard that _divine_ new infant harpist? He's perfectly
exquisite--a genius. But _the_ person I've come to talk to you about,
Mary, is the new singer, Delestin. He's perfectly heavenly! And so
good-looking! I've taken him up--quite--and I want you to be kind about
him, dear Mary."

"I'll take two tickets for his concert," said Aunt William harshly. "But
I won't go to the concert and I won't come and hear him sing."

"Now that's so like you, Mary! He isn't _giving_ a concert, and I _want_
you to hear him sing. He's t