le occasion, and, alluding to himself as a 'winged
messenger,' he hastened to pay a number of morning calls such as he
enjoyed, and to cancel his invitation for a picnic in favour of lunch
or tea at the racecourse. Peter said that he was going to drive the
coach over, and hoped that Canon Wrottesley would perch there when he
felt so disposed, and that his mother, not being inclined to spend the
whole day at Sedgwick, would join them at tea-time. Miss Abingdon and
Jane were going to be kind enough to take her place and act as
hostesses at lunch.

Canon Wrottesley felt that he could not do better than see Miss
Abingdon in person and explain the change of plans, and he arrived, in
his friendly way, just as she and some guests who were staying with her
were going in to luncheon.

Miss Abingdon occasionally reminded herself that she had not met the
vicar until long after his marriage, and she still more frequently
assured herself that her feeling for him was one of pure admiration
untouched by sentiment such as would have been foolish at her age, and
at any age would have been wrong. But there were times like the
present--when the canon came in, unasked, in a friendly way, and hung
up his clerical hat in the hall--which, without going so far as to give
the matter a personal bearing, made it easy for Miss Abingdon to
understand why women married. She ordered another place to be laid,
and asked him to say grace almost with a feeling of proprietorship; and
she ordered up the particular brand of claret which the canon had more
than once assured her would be all the better for being drunk.

Jane came in presently from her morning ride, handsome and charming in
a dark habit and a bowler hat; and Toffy appeared looking white and
thin, and protesting that he was perfectly well; and Kitty Sherard came
in late, as usual, and hoped that something had been kept hot for her.

Kitty Sherard was a decorative young woman, with a face like one of
Greuze's pictures and a passion for wearing rose-colour. Her father
was that rather famous personage, Lord Sherard, one of the last of the
dandies, and probably one of the few men in England in the present day
who had fought a duel. He was still thought irresistible by women, and
perhaps the only sincere love of his life was that for his daughter
Kitty, to whom he told his most _risque_ stories, and whom he found
better company than any one else in the world.

Miss Sherard was in a wilful