swift glance at his busy forehead.

"Yes--certainly--"

"She's charming," pursued Mrs. Toplady, with her kindest air, "and I'm
sure your views interest her."

"Mrs. Woolstan spoke of them?"

"Oh, yes! She called here, as I told you, the day before I went down to
Rivenoak, and, as we were talking, I happened to mention where I was
going. 'Oh then,' she said, 'you'll see my friend Mr. Lashmar!' 'I told
her that Lady Ogram had specially asked me to meet you.' Of course it
delighted me to hear that you knew each other so well. I have always
thought Mrs. Woolstan a very clever little woman. And she looks at
things from such a high point of view--a thorough idealist. Do let us
have her.--Then, if I might propose another guest--?"

She paused, as if afraid of presuming on Lashmar's good-nature.

"Pray do! I couldn't possibly have a better adviser."

Dyce was trying to strike his note of easy comradeship, but found it
very difficult. Mrs. Toplady had so vast an advantage of him in manner,
in social resources, and, for all her amiability, must needs regard him
from a higher ground.

"It's very nice of you to say that," she resumed; "I was thinking of
Mr. Roach, the Member for Belper. You don't happen to know him? Oh,
that doesn't matter. He's delightful; about your own age, I think. Come
and meet him here at five o'clock on Sunday; have a talk and then send
him your invitation. He, too, is a thorough idealist; you're sure to
like him."

Before Lashmar left the house, all the details of this little dinner
were neatly settled, the only point necessarily left uncertain being
whether Lord Dymchurch could be counted upon. Of course Mrs. Toplady
had dictated everything, even to the choice of restaurant and the very
room that was to be engaged; Lashmar would have the pleasure of
ordering the dinner, and of paying the bill. He thanked his stars again
for Mrs. Woolstan's cheque.

On the strength of that same cheque, he had quitted his rooms near St.
Pancras Church, and was now lodging, with more dignity, but doubtful
advantage as to comfort, in Devonshire Street, Portland Place. The
address, he felt, sounded tolerably well. Only in the vaguest way had
he troubled to compute his annual outlay on this new basis. He was
become an adventurer, and in common self-respect must cultivate the
true adventurous spirit. Once or twice he half reproached himself for
not striking out yet more boldly into the currents of ambition, for it
wa