ank,
the fashionable wife of a sporting baronet, owner of a castle in
Scotland, a place in Yorkshire, a villa at Cannes, and a fine house in
Arlington Street, with an income large enough for their enjoyment. When
Lady Diana Angersthorpe shone forth in the West End world as the
acknowledged belle of the season, the star of Georgina Lorimer was
beginning to wane. She was the eldest daughter of Colonel Lorimer, a man
of good old family, and a fine soldier, who had fought shoulder to
shoulder with Gough and Lawrence, and who had contrived to make a figure
in society with very small means. Georgina's sisters had all married
well. It was a case of necessity, the Colonel told them; they must
either marry or gravitate ultimately to the workhouse. So the Miss
Lorimers made the best use of their youth and freshness, and 'no good
offer refused' was the guiding rule of their young lives. Lucy married
an East India merchant, and set up a fine house in Porchester Terrace.
Maud married wealth personified in the person of a leading member of the
Tallow Chandlers' Company, and had her town house and country house, and
as fine a set of diamonds as a duchess.

But Georgina, the eldest, trifled with her chances, and her
twenty-seventh birthday beheld her pouring out her father's tea in a
small furnished house in a street off Portland Place, which the Colonel
had hired on his return from India, and which he declared himself unable
to maintain another year.

'Directly the season is over I shall give up housekeeping and take a
lodging at Bath,' said Colonel Lorimer. 'If you don't like Bath all the
year round you can stay with your sisters.'

'That is the last thing I am likely to do,' answered Georgina; 'my
sisters were barely endurable when they were single and poor. They are
quite intolerable now they are married and rich. I would sooner live in
the monkey-house at the Zoological than stay with either Lucy or Maud.'

'That's rank envy,' retorted her father 'You can't forgive them for
having done so much better than you.'

'I can't forgive them for having married snobs. When I marry I shall
marry a gentleman.'

'When!' echoed the parent, with a sneering laugh. 'Hadn't you better say
"if"'?

At this period Georgina's waning good looks were in some measure
counterbalanced by the cumulative effects of half a dozen seasons in
good society, which had given style to her person, ease to her manners,
and sharpness to her tongue. Nobody in s