"Have you been abroad this summer?" inquired Mrs. Selldon, making
another spasmodic attempt at conversation.

"No, I detest travelling," replied Mark Shrewsbury. "When I need
change I just settle down in some quiet country district for a few
months--somewhere near Windsor, or Reigate, or Muddleton. There is
nothing to my mind like our English scenery."

"Oh, do you know Muddleton?" exclaimed Mrs. Selldon. "Is it not a
charming little place? I often stay in the neighbourhood with the
Milton-Cleaves."

"I know Milton-Cleave well," said the author. "A capital fellow,
quite the typical country gentleman."

"Is he not?" said Mrs. Selldon, much relieved to have found this
subject in common. "His wife is a great friend of mine; she is full
of life and energy, and does an immense amount of good. Did you say
you had stayed with them?"

"No, but last year I took a house in that neighbourhood for a few
months; a most charming little place it was, just fit for a lonely
bachelor. I dare say you remember it--Ivy Cottage, on the Newton
Road."

"Did you stay there? Now what a curious coincidence! Only this
morning I heard from Mrs. Milton-Cleave that Ivy Cottage has been
taken this summer by a Mr. Sigismund Zaluski, a Polish merchant, who
is doing untold harm in the neighbourhood. He is a very clever,
unscrupulous man, and has managed to take in almost every one."