seemed to have been a paragon of virtue.

"That's what made it all the more strange that he should have fallen
into the hands of Mrs. Johnny Dexter," mused an old Colonel as he puffed
at one of Grosse's most admirable cigars. "Poor old David; he was wax in
her hands for a few weeks, then he got fever and recovered from her and
from it at the same time--he went home soon after. He'd have done
anything for her at one moment."

This Colonel might well have been flattered by Edmund's attentions; but
he gave little in return for them except what he said that day.

"Mrs. Johnny Dexter! Why, I'm sure I have known Dexters," thought
Edmund, as he strolled down Pall Mall after this conversation. He
stopped to think, regardless of public observation. "Why, of course,
that old bore Lady Dawning was a Miss Dexter. I'll go and see her this
very day."

Lady Dawning was gratified at Sir Edmund's visit, and was nearly as much
surprised at seeing him as he was at finding himself in the handsome,
heavily-furnished room in Princes Gate. Stout, over fifty, and clumsily
wigged, it rarely enough happened to Lady Dawning to find not only a
sympathetic listener but an eager inquirer into those romantic days when
love's young dream for her cousin Johnny Dexter was stifled by parental
authority: "And it all ended in my becoming Lady Dawning." A sigh of
satisfaction concluded the episode of romance, and led the way back to
the present day.

When Lady Dawning had advised Mrs. Carteret to keep poor dear Johnny's
girl quietly in the country, she had by no means intended to let any of