perhaps, because it was his nature to be provoking, partly because
the daily bickerings over money matters were gradually choking
other forms of conversation. Francesca had seen him once or twice
in the Park in the desirable company of Elaine de Frey, and from
time to time she heard of the young people as having danced
together at various houses; on the other hand, she had seen and
heard quite as much evidence to connect the heiress's name with
that of Courtenay Youghal. Beyond this meagre and conflicting and
altogether tantalising information, her knowledge of the present
position of affairs did not go. If either of the young men was
seriously "making the running," it was probable that she would hear
some sly hint or open comment about it from one of Serena's gossip-
laden friends, without having to go out of her way to introduce the
subject and unduly disclose her own state of ignorance. And a game
of bridge, played for moderately high points, gave ample excuse for
convenient lapses into reticence; if questions took an
embarrassingly inquisitive turn, one could always find refuge in a
defensive spade.

The afternoon was too warm to make bridge a generally popular
diversion, and Serena's party was a comparatively small one. Only
one table was incomplete when Francesca made her appearance on the
scene; at it was seated Serena herself, confronted by Ada
Spelvexit, whom everyone was wont to explain as "one of the
Cheshire Spelvexits," as though any other variety would have been
intolerable. Ada Spelvexit was one of those naturally stagnant
souls who take infinite pleasure in what are called "movements."
"Most of the really great lessons I have learned have been taught
me by the Poor," was one of her favourite statements. The one
great lesson that the Poor in general would have liked to have