t, then, she's perfect style. Do you
remember that big 'at home' at the Van Clupp's when they had a band to
play in the back-yard, and everybody was deafened by the noise? Wasn't
it quite too ridiculous!"

Lady Winsleigh laughed over this reminiscence, and then betook herself
to the consideration of lunch,--a tasty meal which both she and Mrs.
Marvelle evidently enjoyed, flavored as it was with the high spice of
scandal concerning their most immediate and mutual friends, who were,
after much interesting discussion, one by one condemned as of
"questionable" repute, and uncertain position. Then Lady Winsleigh
summoned her maid, and was arrayed _cap-a-pie_ in "carriage-toilette,"
while Mrs. Marvelle amused herself by searching the columns of _Truth_
for some new tit-bit of immorality connected with the royalty or
nobility of England. And at half-past three precisely, the two ladies
drove off together in an elegant victoria drawn by a dashing pair of
greys, with a respectably apoplectic coachman on the box, supported by
the stately Briggs, in all the glory of the olive-green and gold
liveries which distinguished the Winsleigh equipage. By her ladyship's
desire, they were driven straight to Prince's Gate.

"We may as well leave our cards together," said Clara, with a malicious
little smile, "though I hope to goodness the creature won't be at home."

Bruce-Errington's town-house was a very noble-looking mansion--refined
and simple in outer adornment, with a broad entrance, deep portico, and
lofty windows--windows which fortunately were not spoilt by gaudy
hangings of silk or satin in "aesthetic" colors. The blinds were
white--and, what could be seen of the curtains from the outside,
suggested the richness of falling velvets, and gold-woven tapestries.
The drawing-room balconies were full of brilliant flowers, shaded by
quaint awnings of Oriental pattern, thus giving the place an air of
pleasant occupation and tasteful elegance.

Lady Winsleigh's carriage drew up at the door, and Briggs descended.

"Inquire if Lady Bruce-Errington is at home," said his mistress. "And if
not, leave these cards."

Briggs received the scented glossy bits of pasteboard in his
yellow-gloved hand with due gravity, and rang the bell marked "Visitors"
in his usual ponderous manner, with a force that sent it clanging loudly
through the corridors of the stately mansion. The door was instantly
opened by a respectable man with grey hair and a gentle