"He's made fortunes for a good many," said Chiltern.

"Not without some expert assistance I could mention," Mr. Pembroke
retorted.

At this somewhat pointed reference to his ancient habits, Chiltern
laughed.

"You've each had three to-day yourselves," said Mrs. Rindge, in whose
bosom Mr. Pembroke's remark evidently rankled, "without counting those
you had before you left the club."

Afterwards Mrs. Kame expressed a desire to walk about a little, a
proposal received with disfavour by all but Honora, who as hostess
responded.

"I feel perfectly delightful," declared Mrs. Rindge. "What's the use of
moving about?" And she sank back in the cushions of her chair.

This observation was greeted with unrestrained merriment by Mr. Pembroke
and Hugh. Honora, sick at heart, led Mrs. Kame across the garden and
through the gate in the wall. It was a perfect evening of early June, the
great lawn a vivid green in the slanting light. All day the cheerful
music of the horse-mowers had been heard, and the air was fragrant with
the odour of grass freshly cut. The long shadows of the maples and
beeches stretched towards the placid surface of the lake, dimpled here
and there by a fish's swirl: the spiraeas were laden as with freshly
fallen snow, a lone Judas-tree was decked in pink. The steep pastures
beyond the water were touched with gold, while to the northward, on the