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Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, Mrs. Van Clupp and Marcia make their way slowly through the gabbling, pushing, smirking crowd till they form a part of the little coterie immediately round Lady Winsleigh, to whom, at the first opportunity, Mrs. Marvelle whispers "Have they come?" "The modern Paris and the new Helen?" laughs Lady Clara, with a shrug of her snowy shoulders. "No, not yet.

I've got a wife somewhere, whom my literary success causes me to despise and I have deserted children. I'm charmed with, the accuracy of the newspapers and I wouldn't contradict them for the world, I find my biographies so original! They are the result of that celebrity which Winsleigh thinks enjoyable." "But assertions of that kind are libels," said Errington, "You could prosecute."

"I am waiting for you, you know. You haven't finished your work yet. Ah, Mrs. Marvelle! How do you do?" And Lord Winsleigh came forward and shook hands. "You will find her ladyship in, I believe. She will be delighted to see you.

It was a warm star-lit evening, and as Lorimer and Lovelace re-entered Winsleigh House, Beau stole a side-glance at his silent companion. "A plucky fellow!" he mused; "I should say he'd die game. Tortures won't wring his secret out of him." Aloud he said, "I say, haven't we had enough of this?

I wonder you can think of such a thing! And we generally dine out." Mrs. Marvelle was silent again, and, when she did speak, it was on a less delicate matter. "When is your great 'crush, Clara?" she inquired, "You sent me a card, but I forget the date." "On the twenty-fifth," replied Lady Winsleigh. "This is the fifteenth.

If I did not fear to offend you, I should ask you to exchange it for for something more well! let us say, something more substantial " "Don't beat about the bush!" said Violet, with a sudden oblivion of her company manners. "You mean money?" Lady Winsleigh smiled. "As you put it so frankly, Miss Vere " she began. "Of course! I'm always frank," returned the Vere, with a loud laugh.

"But there must be a certain pleasure in it while you're alive to enjoy it," said Lord Winsleigh. "Surely you derive some little satisfaction from your celebrity, Mr. Lovelace?" Beau broke into a laugh, mellow, musical, and hearty. "A satisfaction shared with murderers, thieves, divorced women, dynamiters, and other notorious people in general," he said.

At this name such a fury filled Philip's heart that he could barely control himself. He breathed quickly and heavily. "What of her?" he demanded in a low, suffocated voice. "What has Lady Winsleigh to do with it, Britta?" "Everything!" cried Britta, though, as she glanced at his set, stern face and paling lips, she began to feel a little frightened.

She replied stiffly "I have known him a long time." "He's a nice fellow," went on Miss Vere easily "a leetle stingy sometimes, but never mind that! You want to know about Sir Philip Errington, and I'll tell you. He's chosen to mix himself up with some affairs of mine " "What affairs?" asked Lady Winsleigh rather eagerly.

This young scapegrace," here he caressed his son's clustering curls tenderly "has not yet done with his lessons the idea of the circus to-day seems to have turned his head." "Papa, you promised you'd let me off Virgil this morning!" cried Ernest, slipping his arm coaxingly through his father's. Lord Winsleigh smiled. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle shook her head with a sort of mild reproachfulness.