Honora herself was almost frightened by a sense of augury, of triumph, as
she went forward to greet her hostess. Conversation, for the moment, had
stopped. Cecil Grainger, with the air of one who had pulled aside the
curtain and revealed this vision of beauty and innocence, crossed the
room to welcome her. And Mrs. Grainger herself was not a little
surprised; she was not a dramatic person, and it was not often that her
drawing-room was the scene of even a mild sensation. No entrance could
have been at once so startling and so unexceptionable as Honora's.

"I was sorry not to find you when I called," she said. "I was sorry,
too," replied Mrs. Grainger, regarding her with an interest that was
undisguised, and a little embarrassing. "I'm scarcely ever at home,
except when I'm with the children. Do you know these people?"

"I'm not sure," said Honora, "but--I must introduce my husband to you."

"How d'ye do!" said Mr. Grainger, blinking at her when this ceremony was
accomplished. "I'm awfully glad to see you, Mrs. Spence, upon my word."

Honora could not doubt it. But he had little time to express his joy,
because of the appearance of his wife at Honora's elbow with a tall man
she had summoned from a corner.

"Before we go to dinner I must introduce my cousin, Mr. Chiltern--he is
to have the pleasure of taking you out," she said.

His name was in the class of those vaguely familiar: vaguely familiar,
too, was his face. An extraordinary face, Honora thought, glancing at it
as she took his arm, although she was struck by something less tangible
than the unusual features. He might have belonged to any nationality