very well, Clara," she said. "Let me see--you went to
Kissingen in the summer, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," laughed her ladyship. "It was delicious! I suppose
you know Lennie came after me there! Wasn't it ridiculous!"

Mrs. Marvelle coughed dubiously. "Didn't Winsleigh put in an appearance
at all?" she asked.

Lady Clara's brow clouded. "Oh yes! For a couple of weeks or so. Ernest
came with him, of course, and they rambled about together all the time.
The boy enjoyed it."

"I remember now," said Mrs. Marvelle. "But I've not seen anything of you
since you came back, Clara, except once in the park and once at the
theatre. You've been all the time at Winsleigh Court--by-the-by, was Sir
Francis Lennox there too?"

"Why, naturally!" replied the beauty, with a cool smile. "He follows me
everywhere like a dog! Poor Lennie!"

Again the elder lady coughed significantly.

Clara Winsleigh broke into a ringing peal of laughter, and rising from
her lounge, knelt beside her visitor in a very pretty coaxing attitude.

"Come, Mimsey!" she said, "you are not going to be proper at this time
of day! That would be a joke! Darling, indulgent, good old Mimsey!--you
don't mean to turn into a prim, prosy, cross Mrs. Grundy! I won't
believe it! And you mustn't be severe on poor Lennie--he's such a
docile, good boy, and really not bad-looking!"

Mrs. Marvelle fidgeted a little on her chair. "I don't want to talk
about _Lennie_, as you call him," she said, rather testily--"Only I
think you'd better be careful how far you go with him. I came to consult
you on something quite different. What are you going to do about the
Bruce-Errington business? You know it was in the Post to-day that
they've arrived in town. The idea of Sir Philip bringing his common wife
into society!--It's too ridiculous!"

Lady Winsleigh sprang to her feet, and her eyes flashed disdainfully.

"What am I going to do?" she repeated, in accents of bitter contempt.
"Why, receive them, of course! It will be the greatest punishment
Bruce-Errington can have! I'll get all the best people here that I
know--and he shall bring his peasant woman among them, and blush for
her! It will be the greatest fun out! Fancy a Norwegian farmer's girl
lumbering along with her great feet and red hands! . . . and, perhaps,
not knowing whether to eat an ice with a spoon or with her fingers! I
tell you Bruce-Errington will be ready to die for shame--and serve him
right too!"

Mrs. Mar