the approach of the first group of
visitors up the lane leading to the gate.

"The Campbells are coming. Hurrah! Hurrah! Three of 'em. One stout
person in green, one thin person in black, one girl with large feet.
Girl with feet has fair hair. Who do you know, Martin, with fair hair
and large feet?"

"Dozens of 'em." Martin threw a quick look over his wife's shoulder and
recognised the group at a glance. "Mrs Mallison, wife of Major
Mallison, retired Army man--the Seaforths. Eldest daughter Mary, dull
and domestic. Second daughter Teresa, sporting. They are quite near
the gate now, dearest. Don't, please, let them see..."

Grizel put down the field-glasses, crossed to the couch, and seated
herself thereon in an attitude of prunes and prisms propriety. The bell
rang, and the three ladies were shown into the room. There was an air
of diffidence, almost of shyness in their demeanour, for this was not an
ordinary afternoon call, upon an ordinary bride. This bride had been a
well-known personage in society, her marriage had been a subject of
almost international interest, and the fleeting glimpses which Chumley
had had of her, on previous visits to Martin's sister Katrine, had
confirmed all that rumour had to say touching the puzzling variability
of her nature. It was impossible for these first callers to restrain a
thrill of nervousness as to the nature of the reception before them.
When the door opened to give a momentary glimpse of a white figure
sitting outlined against a background of Oriental splendour, the
nervousness deepened still more. They advanced tentatively, cautious of
the polished floor, so tentatively that Grizel met them more than
half-way, sailing gracefully forward with an infinity of assurance which
had the unexpected result of daunting them still further. They were
requested to sit down; they sat down, and stared...

"So good of you to come to see me! You are my very first callers."

"I trust--not _too_ early." Mrs Mallison felt a pang of disquietude.
"We were so anxious to meet you. You are feeling quite settled down, I
hope. How do you like Chumley?"

"Oh, thank you, _so_ much! I adore everything. You do, don't you, when
you are newly married?"

Mrs Mallison and her eldest daughter looked indulgent, but shocked. It
was quite natural, quite desirable indeed that a bride should entertain
such sentiments, but to express them so openly and to absolute
strangers, savoured al