ent.
Mentally she stood beside Grizel, looking on at the little scene which
had just been enacted, appreciating the alertness of Mrs Singleton, and
enjoying the spectacle of her own credulity.

Meantime each passing moment brought with it a fresh picture. Now it
was a group of Chinamen, attired in the gorgeous colourings of the East,
conversing with friendly cordiality with their black-coated friends;
again it was a slender, dark-skinned woman, moving to the jingle of
innumerable bangles, her timid eyes alight with childlike curiosity;
anon, it was an ecclesiastic of the Church, or a group of court
officials. The kaleidoscopic groups streamed in and out of the great
house, passing each other on the marble staircase of the terrace, while
the strains of massed bands sounded from a discreetly-arranged distance.

Presently Martin returned, and was duly regaled with an account of the
Singleton episode, which being done Grizel laid upon him her own
commands.

"Let's go into the house and be fed! Eating is my one solace on these
occasions," she said, yawning. "One sees so many better-looking women
than oneself.--I rather believe I am going to faint!"

The threat brought her companions to their feet. Martin offered his
arm, and Grizel hung upon it with an air of exhaustion, her reed-like
form and misty draperies investing her with an almost ghostly air of
fragility. She made her way towards the house, followed by eyes of
commiserating admiration, but once seated in the great hall she
displayed an appetite for, and appreciation of the dainties provided,
which put her more robust friends in the shade. Martin hovered around
her with a solicitude which provoked Katrine to the bluntness of truth.

"There's not much wrong with her when she can eat those cakes! She's
not half so bad as she pretends. I wish I had half her appetite."

"Do you grudge me my humble board!" Grizel grimaced with the air of a
cheeky schoolboy, oblivious of the stare of a haughty flunky who was at
the moment supplying her with cream. She sipped luxuriously at the
delicious coffee, and proceeded reflectively:--

"Last time I was here was at the Ball of the Creases. Such a tragic
occasion, Katrine! It was the hour of wool-satins; no other material
had a look in, and every mortal woman had clothed herself therein. Most
of them had a railway journey, or a long drive across country, and oh,
the shock when they alighted, and took off their wraps