'That was wonderful--you couldn't heckle a woman like that.'

Her serious work never detracted from her social charm, which was
influenced by her love and study of eighteenth century French art. Her
wit, gaiety, and the sensitive fancy which manifested itself in her
stories, [Footnote: _The Shrine of Love, and Other Stories_; and _The
Shrine of Death, and Other Stories_.] made up this charm, which was
reflected in the distinction and finish of her appearance. Some touches
seemed subtly to differentiate her dress from the prevailing fashion,
and to make it the expression of a personality which belonged to a
century more dignified, more leisured, and less superficial, than our
own. [Footnote: _Book of the Spiritual Life,_ p. 120.] Her dress
recalled the canvases of Boucher, Van Loo, and Watteau, which she loved.

She played as she worked, with all her heart, delivering herself
completely to the enjoyment of the moment. 'Vous devez bien vous amuser,
Monsieur, tous les jours chez vous,' said a Frenchwoman to Sir Charles
one night at a dinner in Paris. [Footnote: _Book of the Spiritual Life,_
Memoir, p. 96.] In this power of complete relaxation their natures
coincided. Her gaiety matched Sir Charles's own. This perhaps was the
least of the bonds between them. The same high courage, the same
capacity for tireless work, the same sense of public duty, characterized
both.

Sir Charles's real home was the home of all his life, of his father and
grandfather--No. 76, Sloane Street. Pyrford and Dockett were, like La
Sainte Campagne at Toulon, mainly places for rest and play. This home
was a house of treasures--of many things precious in themselves, and
more that were precious to the owners from memory and association.
Through successive generations one member of the family after another