wedding party had driven off, and the rest were clamouring wildly for
their carriages; she herself had got separated from her companion, and
when she could rejoin her in the little gravelled yard outside, she found
her shaking hands with effusion with the foreign-looking gentleman who
had sat next her in the church, but whom, truth to say, she had hardly
noticed.

"Let me present to you my friend," said Cissy. "Miss Nevill, Monsieur
D'Arblet--you will walk with us as far as the park, won't you?"

"I shall be enchanted, Mrs. Hazeldine."

"And wasn't it a pretty wedding," continued Mrs. Hazeldine, rapturously,
as they all three walked away together down the shady side of the street;
"so remarkably pretty considering that there were no bridesmaids; but
Mrs. Romer is so graceful, and dresses so well. I don't visit her myself,
you know; but of course I know her by sight. One knows everybody by sight
in London; it's rather embarrassing sometimes, because one is tempted to
bow to people one doesn't visit, or else one fancies one ought not to bow
to somebody one does. I've made some dreadfully stupid mistakes myself
sometimes. Did you notice the rose point on that old lady's brown satin,
Vera?"

"That was Lady Kynaston."

"Oh, was it? By the way, of course, you must know some of the Kynastons,
as they come from your part of the world. I wonder they didn't ask you to
the wedding."

Vera murmured something unintelligible. Monsieur D'Arblet looked at her