There was Hal, with her smart, well-groomed air, gleaming white neck
and arms, and her white, even teeth that looked so attractive even in
the distance when she smiled.

Dick Bruce, spruce and scholarly, hugely pleased with himself, because
he had an article in _The National Review_, on the strenght of the
colonies in war time; and some lines entitled "Baby's Boredom" in
_Fireside Chat_, concerning which he had already announced his
intention of standing the champagne for their supper with the cheque.

Of the other two occupants it would be difficult to say which attracted
the most attention. Alymer Hermon, with his immense stature and
splendid head, or Quin's aunt, Lady Bounce, who presented so striking a
resemblance to another well-known little old lady sometimes seen at the
theatre, that friends of the last-mentioned were utterly puzzled.

Surely only one little lady in London wore that early Victorian dress,
with the ringlets and "grande dame" air, and sat with such genuine
delight and enjoyment through a play? And yet why did she not look out
for her numerous friends, down there in the stalls, and recognise them?

And who in the world was she with? If that were indeed Lady Phyllis
Fenton - and it seemed incredible it should not be - who was the
splendid young giant, and who the white-faced girl with the brilliant
smile?

And all the time, absorbed in the play and her companions, the little
old lady smiled and talked, calmly indifferent to the many eyes below
waiting for the expected bow of recognition.