any more than he does at me?" she murmured in Winifred
Chester's ear.

"I doubt it, my dear. But he'll be foolish if he doesn't,
won't he?"

"I don't care for widows myself."

"I presume not." Winifred laughed comprehendingly.

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-eight, I believe - though she doesn't look it."

"Doesn't look it! She looks a lot more."

Winifred laughed still, quietly. Although Pauline undoubtedly
had the advantage of Ellen in years, her fair-haired,
blue-eyed, somewhat sumptuous beauty was not of so youthful a
type as the darker colouring and slenderer outlines of
Martha's sister.

The man at the wheel of the brown car lifted his leather cap
as the women came out, but he left all the bestowal of them to
the other men. Miss Hempstead asked to be allowed to sit
beside the driver, but Macauley vowed that on the first long
run of his new machine he himself should occupy that post of
honour and interest.

"Coming back, then," insisted the girl, and Macauley agreed