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When, in the first flow of intimacy with Mercedes, Miss Scrotton had actually imagined, for an ecstatic and solemn fortnight, that she stood first with her, Mrs. Forrester had met her air of irrepressible triumph with a geniality in which was no trace of grievance or humiliation. The downfall had been swift; Mercedes had snubbed her one day, delicately and accurately, in Mrs.

"We're in a public place, and a cat may look at a king. Besides, who could help looking at those marvellous clothes." "It isn't a question of cats but of impertinent human beings," Miss Scrotton returned with displeasure. "Allow me, Madam," she forged a majestic way through a gazing group. "Where is Miss Woodruff?" Gregory inquired. He was wondering.

"I cannot see you, my Scrotton," said Madame von Marwitz, with kindly yet listless decision. "Did they not tell you below that I was seeing nobody? Karen is with me to watch over my ill-temper. She is a soothing little milk-poultice and I can bear nothing else. I am worn out." Before poor Miss Scrotton's brow of gloom Karen suggested that she should herself go down to Mrs.

Miss Scrotton was plaintive, and she could not conceal it. Glory as she might in the rôle of second fiddle, she was very tenaciously aware of what was due to that subservient but by no means insignificant performer; and the Aspreys had not shown themselves enough aware, Mercedes had not shown herself aware at all, of what they all owed to her sustaining, discreet and harmonious accompaniment.

Then, slightly bowing her head and murmuring: "I thank you, Madam," she moved on, her friends closing round her. Miss Scrotton, pale with wrath, put the Slifers aside as she passed them. "Well, girls, I knew I could do it!" Mrs. Slifer ejaculated, drawing a deep breath. They stood near Gregory, and Beatrice, who had adjusted her camera, was taking a series of snaps of the retreating celebrity.

Miss Scrotton read, and, while she read, Madame von Marwitz's cold, deep eyes rested on her, still vaguely smiling. "How very extraordinary," said Miss Scrotton. She handed back the letter. "Extraordinary? Now, why, ma bonne?" her friend inquired, all limpid frankness.

"He looked indeed, a stockish, chill young man, of the cold-nosed type ah, que je n'aime pas ça! but he is a good young man; a most unimpeachable young man; and our little Karen has melted him; how much his letter shows." "Gregory Jardine is a very able and a very distinguished person," said Miss Scrotton, "and of an excellent county family.

"She is certainly charming looking; anyone so charming looking has a right to be dull." But Miss Scrotton did not heed him. She had risen to her feet. "Here she is!" she exclaimed, looking towards the door in radiant satisfaction. "You will meet her after all. I'll do my very best so that you shall have a little talk with her."

Forrester poured out her tea, Miss Harding passed her cake and bread-and-butter, Lady Campion bent to her with frank and graceful compliments, Miss Scrotton sat at her feet on a low settle, and Sir Alliston, leaning on the back of her chair, looked down at her with eyes of antique devotion. Gregory was left on the outskirts of the group and his attention was attracted by the face of little Mrs.

Miss Scrotton leaned over the back of Miss Woodruff's chair to ask with some asperity of manner. "Shall I wait for a little before I go up to her?" "I can't tell," the young girl replied. "She said she did not know whether she would come or not. She is lying down and reading." "She does not forget that she comes to me for tea to-morrow?" "I do not think so, Miss Scrotton."