"Which one was she?"

"The Dresden china one. She looks--she simply cannot look as though she
were married. It's most amusing--for people always take her for
somebody's youngest sister who will be out next winter. . . . Don't you
remember seeing her?"

"No, I don't. But there were dozens coming and going every minute whom I
didn't know. Still, I behaved well, didn't I?"

"Pretty badly--to Kathleen Lawn, whom you cornered so that she couldn't
escape until her mother made her go without any tea."

"Was _that_ the reason that old lady looked at me so queerly?"

"Probably. I did, too, but you were taking chances, not hints. . . . She
_is_ attractive, isn't she?"

"Very fetching," he said, leaning down to examine his stirrup leathers
which he had already lengthened twice. "I've got to have Cummins punch
these again," he muttered; "or am I growing queer-legged in my old age?"

As he straightened up, Miss Erroll said: "Here comes Mr. Fane now--with
a strikingly pretty girl. How beautifully they are mounted"--smilingly
returning Fane's salute--"and she--oh! so you _do_ know her, Captain
Selwyn? Who is she?"

Crop raised mechanically in dazed salute, Selwyn's light touch on the
bridle had tightened to a nervous clutch which brought his horse up