"Because Miss Holmes seems quite crazy about the place, and I expect I
shall be dragged out there one day," he replied, quite gloomily. It was
a prophetic remark.

At this moment our conversation was interrupted by Lady Longden, who
came to bid her future son-in-law good night. She said that she must go
to bed, and put her feet in mustard and water as her cold was so bad,
which left me wondering whether she meant to carry out this operation
in bed. I recommended her to take quinine, a suggestion she acknowledged
rather inconsequently by remarking in somewhat icy tones that she
supposed I sat up to all hours of the night in Africa. I replied that
frequently I did, waiting for the sun to rise next day, for that member
of the British aristocracy irritated me.

Thus we parted, and I never saw her again. She died many years ago,
poor soul, and I suppose is now freezing her former acquaintances in
the Shades, for I cannot imagine that she ever had a friend. They talk
a great deal about the influences of heredity nowadays, but I don't
believe very much in them myself. Who, for instance, could conceive
that persons so utterly different in every way as Lady Longden and her
daughter, Miss Holmes, could be mother and child? Our bodies, no doubt,
we do inherit from our ancestors, but not our individualities. These
come from far away.

A good many of the guests went at the same time, having long distances
to drive on that cold frosty night, although it was only just ten
o'clock. For as was usual at that period even in fashionable houses, we
had dined at seven.