n her pale gold hair, too thick a
dusk on her lashes; this was the only flaw that one could detect in her
appearance. If men liked that sort of thing, and they apparently did,
Corinna reflected, then they could scarcely complain of an emphasis on
perfection.

"I've just got back," began Rose Stribling in a tone as soft as her
metallic voice could produce. "It's been an age since I've seen you--not
since the night of that stupid dinner at the Berkeleys', and I'm so much
interested in the news I have heard."

For a minute Corinna stared at her. "Yes, my shop has been very
successful," she answered, after a pause in which she tried and failed
to think of a reply that would sound more disdainful. "If you are
looking for prints, I can show you some very good ones."

"Oh, I don't mean that." Mrs. Stribling appeared genuinely amused by the
mistake. "I am not looking for prints--to tell the truth I shouldn't
know one if I saw it. I mean your engagement, of course. There isn't
anybody in the world who admires John Benham more than I do. I always
say of him that he is the only man I know who will sacrifice himself
for a principle. All his splendid record in the army--when he was over
age too--and then the way he behaved about that corporation! I never
understood just why he did it--I'm sure I could never bring myself to
refuse so much money,--but that doesn't keep me from admiring him." For
a minute she looked at Corinna with a smile which seemed as permanent as
the rest of her surface, while she discreetly sharpened her wits for the
stab which was about to be dealt. "I can't tell you how surprised I was
to hear you had announced your engagement. You know we were so sure that
he was going to marry Alice Rokeby after she got her divorce. Of course
nobody knew. It was just gossip, and you and I both know how absurd
gossip can be."

So this was why she had stopped! Corinna flinched from the thrust even
while she told herself that there was no shadow of truth in the old
rumour, that malice alone had prompted Rose Stribling to repeat it. In a
woman like that, an incorrigible coquette, every relation with her own
sex would be edged with malice.

"Well, I just stopped to wish you happiness. I must go now, but I'll
come again, when I have time, and look at your shop. Such a funny
idea--a shop, with all the money you've got! But no idea seems too funny
for people to-day. And that reminds me of the Governor. Have you seen
the Governo