lilacs, and enough lilies of the valley, nestling in baby leaves of
yellow green, to clean out any save a well-filled pocket book; but that
was all the better. The more he could spend to-day, the more was Hugh
Egerton pleased. He gave "Madame Clifford's" address, and wrote
something in English on his visiting card. The flowers were to go at
once; at once, mind; not in fifteen minutes, but now, this very now.

"How much in love is that handsome young Monsieur!" thought the
Mademoiselle of the shop, with a little sigh for some of the wonders of
the world which she had missed, and must always miss. Her heels were
appallingly high, and her waist was incredibly small; but she had a
heart; and there was no heart which would not have softened to Hugh, and
wished him the best of good luck, this day.

The next window which attracted the young man's eye, was one which
displayed just such a dress as he had vaguely pictured yesterday, for a
dear companion on the terrace. It was white, of course; and he was not
sure, but he thought it was made of cloth. Anyway there was a lot of
embroidery on it, full of little holes, which somehow contrived to be
extraordinarily fetching. It had a mantle which hung in soft folds,
marvellously intricate, yet simple in effect; and he could have fallen
upon the neck of the stout, powdered lady in black silk who assured him
that the costume could be worn without alteration by any "_dame de jolie
taille_."

He bought it instantly, and then seized upon precisely such a "long
white thing" of ermine as he had seen in his mind's eye. A "granny" muff
went with it. (Really the people of the shop must have had prophetic
souls!) And there was a white hat, with a gold buckle and a long white
ostrich feather which looked as if it had been born to shade the face of