"She is everything to them all; niece and grand-niece, and first
cousin and grand-daughter. Her father was the fourth brother, and as
she was one of six her share of the family wealth is small. Those
Pallisers are very peculiar, and I doubt whether she ever saw the
old duke. She has no father or mother, and lives when she is at home
with a married sister, about seventy years older than herself, Mrs.
Attenbury."

"I remember Mrs. Attenbury."

"Of course you do. Who does not? Adelaide was a child then, I
suppose. Though I don't know why she should have been, as she calls
herself one-and-twenty now. You'll think her pretty. I don't. But
she is my great new friend, and I like her immensely. She rides to
hounds, and talks Italian, and writes for the _Times_."

"Writes for the _Times_!"

"I won't swear that she does, but she could. There's only one other
thing about her. She's engaged to be married."

"To whom?"

"I don't know that I shall answer that question, and indeed I'm not
sure that she is engaged. But there's a man dying for her."

"You must know, if she's your friend."

"Of course I know; but there are ever so many ins and outs, and I