in turn the fact that she had been attempting all along to get her
programme safely into his hands. A halting masculine pen will not
be expected to explain how she compassed this, beyond a gentle
intimation that masculine vanity had a good deal to do with her
success.

"She is having an excellent time," said Sir John, weighing on the
modern phrase with a subtle sarcasm. He was addicted to the use of
modern phraseology, spiced with a cynicism of his own.

"Yes, I cannot help sympathising with her--a little," answered the
lady.

"Nor I. It will not last."

"Well, she is only gathering the rosebuds."

"Wisely so, your ladyship. They at least LOOK as if they were going
to last. The full-blown roses do not."

Lady Cantourne gave a little sigh. This was the difference between
them. She could not watch without an occasional thought for a time
that was no more. The man seemed to be content that the past had
been lived through and would never renew itself.

"After all," she said, "she is my sister's child. The sympathy may
only be a matter of blood. Perhaps I was like that myself once.
Was I? You can tell me."

She looked slowly round the room and his face hardened. He knew