n the morning she
wrote her Ladyship's letters, and selected from the newspapers such
things as her Ladyship ought to read. By-and-by she would be much
busier. She was taking lessons in short-hand and type-writing in the
afternoons. Her Ladyship would come in only in time to dress for dinner.
She had been driving in the park, she had been calling, she had been at
a concert, or a matinee, or an "At Home." She had been attending this or
that meeting. She was never in bed before the summer dawn, yet she would
be at the breakfast-table as fresh as a milkmaid, smiling at Mary and
telling her this and that bit of news or event of the time since they
had met.

Mrs. Morres, who had to accompany her to many places, slept every hour
of the day she could. She confessed to Mary in her dry way, that did not
ask for pity, that she found her Ladyship's energy superhuman. Sometimes
there was an interesting debate in the House of Commons, and Lady Agatha
must drop in after dinner to sit for an hour behind the gilded grille.
Afterwards she would go on to a political reception. Later to a ball,
where she would dance as though there had been nothing in all the long
day to tire her.

Once or twice she had a quiet dinner-party, to which Mary came down in
her frock of filmy black, which made a delightful setting for her fair
paleness. At these dinners she encountered famous men and women, and
looked at them from afar off with wistful interest. In the drawing-room
afterwards she saw Lady Agatha the centre of a brilliant group. Someone
said of her that she was likely to be the spoilt child of politics,
since she could be audacious with even the greatest, and move them to
speak when no one else could. The great men shook their heads at her and
smiled. They warned her that she went too fast for them, that
impulsiveness, charming as it was in a woman, was not to be permitted in
politics. "If you would but learn diplomacy, my dear lady!" Sir Michael
Auberon sighed. But diplomacy seemed likely to be the last thing Lady
Agatha Chenevix would learn.

Mary used to sit under Mrs. Morres's wing, and listen, through her witty
and wise talk, to the utterances of the great. She felt very shy of
these companies of distinguished men and women. Lady Agatha made one or
two attempts to draw her closer. Then, perceiving that she was happier
in her corner, she let her be.

In her corner Mary listened. She listened with all her ears. Her cheeks
would flush and