"Have you heard the name Cora Wellingborough has given to this ball?"

(The Duchess of Wellingborough was one of the hostesses.)

"No," replied a voice, which Lady Sellingworth recognized as the voice
of young Rocheouart. "What is it?"

"She calls it 'The Hags' Hop'! Isn't it delicious of her? It will be
all over London to-morrow. The name will stick. In the annuals of London
festivities to-night will always be remembered as the night of the
famous Hags' Hop."

Lady Sellingworth heard Rocheouart's strong, manly young laugh.

"That's just like the duchess!" he said. "She's simply made of humour
and always hits the nail on the head. And how clever of her to give the
right name to the ball herself instead of leaving it for some pretty
girl to do. The Hags' Hop! It's perfect! If she hadn't said that, you
would have before the evening was out, and then all the charming hags
would have been furious with you."

The girl laughed, and she and Rocheouart passed Lady Sellingworth
without noticing her and went into the ballroom.

She looked at them as they began to dance; then she looked at the
Duchess of Wellingborough, who was also dancing.

The duchess was frankly middle-aged. She was very good-looking, but
she had let her figure go. She was quite obviously the victim of
the "elderly spread." Her health was excellent, her sense of humour
unfailing. She never pretended to anything, but was as natural almost as
a big child. Although a widow, she wanted no lover. She often said that
she had "got beyond all that sort of thing." Another of her laughingly
frank sayings was: "No young man need be afraid of me." In consequence
of her gaiety, humour, frankness and hospitality she was universally
popular.

But that night Lady Sellingworth almost hated her.

The Hags' Hop!

That terrible name stuck in Lady Sellingworth's mind and seemed to
fasten there like a wound in a body.

As Rocheouart's partner had foretold, the name went all over London.
The duchess's _mot_ even got into a picture paper, and everyone laughed
about it. The duchess was delighted. Nobody seemed to mind. Even Lady
Sellingworth forced herself to quote the saying and to make merry over
it. But from that day she gave up dancing entirely. Nothing would induce
her even to join in a formal royal quadrille.

Before his return to Paris, Rocheouart came to bid her good-bye.
Although she was still, as she supposed, madly in love with him,
she concealed it, or,