which opened upon Lord Denyer's balcony.

The ten or twelve persons assembled seemed only a sprinkling in the large
lofty room, furnished sparsely with amber satin sofas, a pair of Florentine
marble tables, and half an acre or so of looking glass. Voluminous amber
draperies shrouded the windows, and deadened the sound of rolling wheels,
and the voices and footfalls of western London. The drawing rooms of those
days were neither artistic nor picturesque--neither Early English nor Low
Dutch, nor Renaissance, nor Anglo-Japanese. A stately commonplace
distinguished the reception rooms of the great world. Upholstery stagnated
at a dead level of fluted legs, gilding, plate glass, and amber satin.

Lady Denyer stood a little way in advance of the group on the hearthrug,
fanning herself, with her eye on the door, while she listened languidly
to the remarks of a youthful diplomatist, a sprig of a lordly tree, upon
the last _debut_ at Her Majesty's Theatre.

'My own idea was that she screamed,' said her ladyship. 'But the new
Rosinas generally do scream. Why do we have a new Rosina every year,
whom nobody ever hears of afterwards? What becomes of them? Do they die,
or do they set up as singing mistresses in second-rate watering-places?'
hazarded her ladyship, with her eye always on the door.

She was a large woman in amethyst satin, and a gauze turban with a
diamond aigrette, a splendid jewel, which would not have misbeseemed the
head-gear of an Indian prince. Lady Denyer was one of the last women who
wore a turban, and that Oriental head-dress became her bold and massive
features.

Infinitely bored by the whiskerless attache, who had entered upon a
disquisition on the genius of Rossini as compared with this new man
Meyerbeer, her ladyship made believe to hear, while she listened
intently to the confidential murmurs of the group on the hearthrug, the
little knot of personages clustered round Lord Denyer. Hi 'Indian mail
in this morning,' said one--'nothing else talked of at the club. Very
flagrant case! A good deal worse than Warren Hastings. Quite clear there
must be a public inquiry--House of Lords--criminal prosecution.'

'I was told on very good authority, that he has been recalled, and is
now on his passage home,' said another man.

Lord Denyer shrugged his shoulders, pursed up his lips, and looked
ineffably wise, a way he had when he knew very little about the subject
under discussion.

'How will _she_ take it, do y