eted.

This event, after the fashion of extraordinary occurrences, happened in
a commonplace manner. One Sunday evening he was bidden there to dine. He
had broken bread in the house many times before, but the bread breaking
had been informal. On this particular occasion, however, other guests
had been invited, and Tristrem was given to understand that he would
meet some agreeable people.

When he entered the drawing-room, he discovered that of the guests of
the evening he was the first to arrive. Even Weldon was not visible; but
Mrs. Weldon was, and, as Tristrem entered, she rose from a
straight-backed chair in which she had been seated, and greeted him with
a smile which she had copied from a chromo.

Mrs. Weldon was exceedingly pretty. She was probably twenty-two or
twenty-three years of age, and her intellect was that of a girl of
twelve. Her manner was arch and noticeably affected. She had an
enervating way of asking unnecessary questions, and of laughing as
though it hurt her. On the subject of dress she was very voluble; in
brief, she was prettiness and insipidity personified--the sort of woman
that ought to be gagged and kept in bed with a doll.

She gave Tristrem a little hand gloved with _Suede_, and asked him had
he been at church that morning. Tristrem found a seat, and replied that
he had not. "But don't you like to go?" she inquired, emphasizing each
word of the question, and ending up with her irritating laugh.

"He does," came a voice from the door and Weldon entered. "He does, but
he can resist the temptation." Then there was more conversation of the
before-dinner kind, and during its progress the door opened again, and a
young girl crossed the room.

She was dressed in a gown of canary, draped with madeira and fluttered
with lace. Her arms and neck were bare, and unjewelled. Her hair was
Cimmerian, the black of basalt that knows no shade more dark, and it was
arranged in such wise that it fell on either side of the forehead,
circling a little space above the ear, and then wound into a coil on the
neck. This arrangement was not modish, but it was becoming--the only
arrangement, in fact, that would have befitted her features, which
resembled those of the Cleopatra unearthed by Lieutenant Gorringe. Her
eyes were not oval, but round, and they were amber as those of leopards,
the yellow of living gold. The corners of her mouth drooped a little,
and the mouth itself was rather large than small. When she