fanning herself, with her eye on the door, while she listened languidly
to the remarks of a youthful diplomatist, a sprig of a lordly tree, upon
the last _début_ at Her Majesty's Theatre.

'My own idea was that she screamed,' said her ladyship. 'But the new
Rosinas generally do scream. Why do we have a new Rosina every year,
whom nobody ever hears of afterwards? What becomes of them? Do they die,
or do they set up as singing mistresses in second-rate watering-places?'
hazarded her ladyship, with her eye always on the door.

She was a large woman in amethyst satin, and a gauze turban with a
diamond aigrette, a splendid jewel, which would not have misbeseemed the
head-gear of an Indian prince. Lady Denyer was one of the last women who
wore a turban, and that Oriental head-dress became her bold and massive
features.

Infinitely bored by the whiskerless attaché, who had entered upon a
disquisition on the genius of Rossini as compared with this new man
Meyerbeer, her ladyship made believe to hear, while she listened
intently to the confidential murmurs of the group on the hearthrug, the
little knot of personages clustered round Lord Denyer. Hi 'Indian mail
in this morning,' said one--'nothing else talked of at the club. Very
flagrant case! A good deal worse than Warren Hastings. Quite clear there
must be a public inquiry--House of Lords--criminal prosecution.'

'I was told on very good authority, that he has been recalled, and is
now on his passage home,' said another man.

Lord Denyer shrugged his shoulders, pursed up his lips, and looked
ineffably wise, a way he had when he knew very little about the subject