cen's Head. Admission to be by invitation
card. I write to Lady Ogram, and no doubt you will consult with her."

This looked like business. Dyce reflected rather nervously that he
would have to make a speech--a practical speech; he must define his
political attitude; philosophical generalities would not serve in the
public room at the Saracen's Head. Well, he had a fortnight to think
about it. And here was an excuse for calling on Lady Ogram, of which he
would avail himself at once.

In the afternoon he went to Bunting's Hotel, but Lady Ogram was not at
home. He inquired for Miss Bride, and was presently led up to the
private drawing-room, where Constance sat writing. As they shook hands,
their eyes scarcely met.

"Can you spare me a few minutes?" asked the visitor. "There's something
here I wanted to show Lady Ogram; but I shall be still more glad to
talk it over with you."

Constance took the newspaper and Breakspeare's note. As she read, her
firm-set lips relaxed a little. She handed the papers back with a nod.

"Has Lady Ogram heard?" Dyce asked.

"Yes; she had a letter this morning, and I have answered it. She was
pleased So far, so good. You have had Mrs. Toplady's card for the
evening of the 13th?"

"I have."

"One of the Liberal whips will be there--an opportunity for you."

Every time he saw her, Constance seemed to be drier and more laconic.
Their intercourse promised to illustrate to the full his professed
ideal of relation between man and woman in friendship; every note of
difference in sex would soon be eliminated, if indeed that point were
not already attained.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Miss Bride, carelessly; for Dyce had thrown
hat and stick aside, and was moving about with his hands in his pockets.

"But you're busy."

"Not particularly."

"How is our friend?"

"Lady Ogram? Pretty well, I think, but overtaxing herself. I don't
think she'll be able to stay here long. It certainly wouldn't be wise."

"Of course it's on her niece's account. By the bye--" Dyce paused
before Constance's chair--"where has this niece sprung from? You told
me she hadn't a relative in the world."

"So she believed. Miss Tomalin is a recent discovery--the fruit of Mr.
Kerchever's researches."

"Ah! That's rather amusing. Lucky, I imagine, that she is such a
presentable person. She might have been--"

He checked himself significantly, and Constance allowed an absent smile
to pass over her face.

"I'm a