disappointed, but being fair-minded blows her absent host a kiss for
disappointing her.

He has even, she observes with a twinkle, made something of the most
difficult of his possessions, the little wife. For Maggie, who is
here receiving her, has been quite creditably toned down. He has put
her into a little grey frock that not only deals gently with her
personal defects, but is in harmony with the room. Evidently,
however, she has not 'risen' with him, for she is as ever; the
Comtesse, who remembers having liked her the better of the two, could
shake her for being so stupid. For instance, why is she not asserting
herself in that other apartment?

The other apartment is really a correctly solemn dining-room, of
which we have a glimpse through partly open folding-doors. At this
moment it is harbouring Mr. Shand's ladies' committee, who sit with
pens and foolscap round the large table, awaiting the advent of their
leader. There are nobly wise ones and some foolish ones among them,
for we are back in the strange days when it was considered
'unwomanly' for women to have minds. The Comtesse peeps at them with
curiosity, as they arrange their papers or are ushered into the
dining-room through a door which we cannot see. To her frivolous
ladyship they are a species of wild fowl, and she is specially amused
to find her niece among them. She demands an explanation as soon as
the communicating doors close.]

COMTESSE. Tell me since when has my dear Sybil become one of these
ladies? It is not like her.

[MAGGIE is obviously not clever enough to understand the woman