pot, sprung, as it
were, from the very turf itself. The interest she takes or pretends to
take in racing is something astounding. For in truth she knows nothing
about horses, their points, their pedigrees, or their performances.
Yet she chatters about them and their races, their jockeys, their
owners, the weight they carry, their tempers, and the state of the
betting market, with a glib assurance which is apt to put to shame
even those of her male companions who have devoted a lifetime to
the earnest study of these supreme matters. In imitation of these
gentlemen she will assure those who care to listen to her, that she
has had a real bad day, not having managed to get on to a single
winner, and that if it hadn't been for a fluke in backing _Tantivy_,
one, two, three, she would have been reduced to a twopence in the
pound condition of beggary. She will then forget her imaginary losses,
and will listen with amusement and interest while a smooth-faced lad
criticises with as much severity as he can command in the intervals of
his cigarettes the dress, appearance, and general character of a
lady whom she happens to dislike. On the following day she will visit
Hurlingham in order to be looked at as a spectator at a polo match, in
which she has no interest whatever. After this she is entertained at
dinner together with a select party, which includes the young married
lady who is her bosom friend and occasional chaperon, by a middle-aged
dandy of somewhat shady antecedents, but of great wealth and undoubted
position. On Sunday mornings she may not always go to Church, but she
makes up for this neglect by the perfect regularity of her attendance
at Church parade. In the afternoon she will go to Tattersall's to
inspect horses. Ascot could not continue without her, and Goodwood
would crumble into ruins if she were absent. This at least is her
opinion, and thus the months flit by and leave her just as wise
as they found her. For she never reads a book, and illustrates by
constant practice her belief that the fashionable intelligence of the
_Morning Post_ is a sufficient mental pabulum for a grown-up woman.

It is unnecessary to describe further the pursuits and occupations of
the Hurlingham Girl. With regard to her appearance and dress, it must
be admitted that she displays considerable taste. She is always neat,
polished, perfectly groomed--in a word, smart. It may be that it takes
nine tailors to make a man. It is certain that i