Coryston's worn-out looks. James had more effect upon her than most people;
though never quite effect enough.

Marcia stood with one foot on the fender, her gaze fixed on her mother in
a frowning abstraction. And suddenly Lady Coryston, lifting her eyes,
realized her daughter, and the vision that she made.

"You look very well, Marcia. Have I seen that dress before?"

"No. I designed it last week. Ah!"--the sound of a distant gong made itself
heard--"there's the motor. Well, good night, mother. Take care of yourself
and do go to bed soon."

She stooped to kiss her mother.

"Who's going with you?"

"Waggin and James. Arthur may come in. He thinks the House will be up
early. And I asked Mr. Lester. But he can't come for the first part."

Her mother held her sleeve and looked up, smiling. Lady Coryston's smiles
were scarcely less formidable than her frowns.

"You expect to see Edward Newbury?"

"I dare say. They have their box, as usual."

"Well!--run off and enjoy yourself. Give my love to Miss Wagstaffe."

"Waggin" was waiting in the hall for Marcia. She had been Miss Coryston's