glimpse of her full-face, hastily altered his position to one whence he
could behold her at right angles.

As she grew older, the profile in the photographs had become more and
more _perdu_; the last one showed chiefly the back of her head, besides
a basket of flowers, and a double staircase, leading (one hoped) at
least to one of the upper rooms in Buckingham Palace.

Lady Cannon had a very exalted opinion of her own charms, virtues,
brilliant gifts, and, above all, of her sound sense. Fortunately for
her, she had married a man of extraordinary amiability, who had always
taken every possible precaution to prevent her discovering that in this
opinion she was practically alone in the world.

Having become engaged to her through a slight misunderstanding in a
country house, Sir Charles had not had the courage to explain away the
mistake. He decided to make the best of it, and did so the more easily
as it was one of those so-called suitable matches that the friends and
acquaintances of both parties approve of and desire far more than the
parties concerned. A sensible woman was surely required at Redlands and
in the London house, especially as Sir Charles had been left guardian
and trustee to a pretty little heiress.

It had taken him a very short time to find out that the reputation for
sound sense was, like most traditions, founded on a myth, and that if
his wife's vanity was only equalled by her egotism, her most remarkable
characteristic was her excessive silliness. But she loved him, and he
kept his discovery to himself.

'Twenty-five minutes to eight!' she exclaimed, holding out a little