on that Mrs. What's-her-name. Do you know
where Tavistock Square is?"

"Of course I do. Everybody does. Who is it lives there?"

The Countess had consulted the undersized tablets, and was repocketing
them. "Mrs. Enniscorthy Hopkins," said she, in the most collateral way
possible to humanity. "_You_ wouldn't know anything about her."

"This tea has been standing," said Gwen. She refused to rise to Mrs.
Enniscorthy Hopkins, whom she suspected of red-herringhood.

The Countess was compelled to be less collateral. "She was Kathleen
Tyrawley," said she. "But I quite lost sight of her. One does."

"Was she interesting?"

"Ye-es.... N-no ... not very. Pretty--of that sort!"

"What sort?"

"Well--very fond of horses."

"So am I--the darlings!"

"Yes--but a girl may be very fond of horses, and yet not marry a ...
Don't put milk in--only cream...."

"Marry a what?"

"Marry her riding-master." Her ladyship softened down Miss Tyrawley's
groom to presentability. "But it was before you were born, child.
However, no doubt it is the same, in principle."

"Hope so! Is that tea right?"

"The tea? Oh yes, the tea ... will do. No, I only saw Sir Hamilton. The
son and daughter were away."

"Now, mamma, that is being unkind, and you know it. 'The son and
daughter!' As if they were people!"

"Well--and what are they?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

As the Countess did, she averted discussion. "We won't rake the subject
up, my dear Gwendolen," she said, in a manner which embodied moderation,
while asserting dignity. "You know my feelings on the matter, which
would, I am sure, be those of any parent--of any _mother_, certainly.
And I may mention to you--only, _please_ no discussion!--that Sir
Hamilton _entirely shares_ my views. He expressed himself quite clearly
on the subject yesterday."

"You must have seen him for more than a few minutes to get as far as
_that_." This was a shell in the enemy's powder-magazine.

The Countess had to adopt retrocessive strategy. "I think, my dear," she
said, with dignity at a maximum, "that I have made it sufficiently clear
that I do not wish to rediscuss your engagement, as your father persists
in calling it. We must retain our opinions. If at the end of six
months--_if_--it turns out that I am entirely mistaken, why, then you
and your father must just settle it your own way. Now let us talk no
more about it."

This conversation took place in the late afternoon of the da