market, which completely covered her
short satin gown. She had a little brown velvet toque to match the
Newmarket, and thus attired she would be able to take her seat on the
drag which was waiting on the quietest side of Covent Garden.

'Why should not you go with us, Don Gomez?' exclaimed Lady Kirkbank, in
a gush of hospitality. 'The drive will be charming--not equal to your
tropical Cuba--but intensely nice. And the gardens will be something too
sweet on such a night as this. I knew them when the dear Duc d'Aumale
was there. Ay de mi, such a man!'

Lady Kirkbank sighed, with the air of having known his Altesse Royale
intimately.

'I should be charmed,' said Don Gomez, 'if I thought my friend Smithson
wanted me. Would you really like to have me, Smithson?'

'I should be enchanted.'

'And there is room on the drag?'

'Room enough for half-a-dozen. I am only taking Sir George Kirkbank and
Colonel Delville--whom we are to pick up at the Haute Gomme--and Mr. and
Mrs. Mostyn, who are in the stalls.'

'A nice snug little party,' exclaimed that charming optimist, Lady
Kirkbank. 'I hate a crowd on a drag. The way some of the members of the
Four-in-hand Club load their coaches on parade reminds me of a
Beanfeast!'

They found Lady Kirkbank's footman and one of Mr. Smithson's grooms
waiting in the hall of the opera house. The groom to conduct them to the
spot where the drag was waiting; the footman to carry wraps and take his
mistress's final orders. There was a Bohemian flavour in the little walk
to the great fruit garden, which was odorous of bruised peaches and
stale salads as they passed it. Waggon-loads of cabbages and other
garden stuff were standing about by the old church; the roadway was
littered with the refuse of the market; and the air was faint and heavy
with the scent of herbs and flowers.

Lesbia mounted lightly to her place of honour on the box-seat; and Lady
Kirkbank was hoisted up after her. Mr. and Mrs. Mostyn followed; and
then Don Gomez took his seat by Lady Kirkbank's side and behind Lesbia,
a vantage point from which he could talk to her as much as he liked. Mr.
Smithson seated himself a minute afterwards, and drove off by King
Street and Leicester Square and on to Piccadilly, steering cleverly
through the traffic of cabs and carriages, which was at its apogee just
now, when all the theatres were disgorging their crowds. Piccadilly was
quieter, yet there were plenty of carriages, late people goi