his spouse, and a portly middle-aged man, to whom, as Sir Thomas
Pratt, Kenelm was introduced. Sir Thomas was an eminent city banker.
The ceremonies of introduction over, Kenelm stole to Elsie's side.

"I thought I was to meet Mrs. Cameron. I don't see her."

"She will be here presently. It looks as if it might rain, and I have
sent the carriage for her and Lily. Ah, here they are!"

Mrs. Cameron entered, clothed in black silk. She always wore black;
and behind her came Lily, in the spotless colour that became her name;
no ornament, save a slender gold chain to which was appended a single
locket, and a single blush rose in her hair. She looked wonderfully
lovely; and with that loveliness there was a certain nameless air of
distinction, possibly owing to delicacy of form and colouring;
possibly to a certain grace of carriage, which was not without a
something of pride.

Mr. Braefield, who was a very punctual man, made a sign to his
servant, and in another moment or so dinner was announced. Sir
Thomas, of course, took in the hostess; Mr. Braefield, the vicar's
wife (she was a dean's daughter); Kenelm, Mrs. Cameron; and the vicar,
Lily.

On seating themselves at the table Kenelm was on the left hand, next
to the hostess, and separated from Lily by Mrs. Cameron and Mr. Emlyn;
and when the vicar had said grace, Lily glanced behind his back and
her aunt's at Kenelm (who did the same thing), making at him what the
French call a /moue/. The pledge to her had been broken. She was
between two men very much grown up,--the vicar and the host. Kenelm