the pleasant low rooms looking out upon trees at either end, upon which
Mrs. Stuart had impressed throughout the stamp of her own keen little
personality. She was competent in all things--competent in her criticism
of a book, and more than competent in all that pertained to the niceties
of house management. Her dinner-parties, of which each was built up from
foundation to climax with the most delicate skill and unity of plan; her
pretty dresses, in which she trailed about her soft-coloured rooms; her
energy, her kindliness, and even the evident but quite innocent pursuit
of social perfection in which she delighted--all made her popular; and it
was not difficult for her to gather together whom she would when she
wished to launch a social novelty. On the present occasion she was very
much in her element. All around her were people more or less
distinguished in the London world; here was an editor, there an artist; a
junior member of the Government chatted over his tea with a foreign
Minister, and a flow of the usual London chatter of a superior kind was
rippling through the room when Kendal entered.

Mrs. Stuart put him in the way of a chair and of abundant chances of
conversation, and then left him with a shrug of her shoulders and a
whisper, 'The beauty is shockingly late! Tell me what I shall do if all
these people are disappointed.' In reality, Mrs. Stuart was beginning to
be restless. Kendal had himself arrived very late, and, as the talk
flowed faster, and the room filled fuller of guests eager for the new
sensation which had been promised them, the spirits of the little hostess
began to sink. The Minister had surreptitiously looked at his watch, and
a tiresome lady friend had said good-bye in a voice which might have been
lower, and with a lament which might have been spared. Mrs. Stuart set
great store upon the success of her social undertakings, and to gather a
crowd of people to meet the rising star of the season, and then to have
to send them home with only tea and talk to remember, was one of those