mosphere of reticence and reserve, a certain shy
aloofness, mingled with a direct simple dignity, that gave to her
bearing an ineffable grace and charm. The mothers of more dashing
damsels were wont to say that she was not "effective" in a ballroom. It
was true that she had nothing particularly accentuated in demeanour or
appearance which would at once arrest attention, an inadequate
equipment, perhaps, in the opinion of those who hold that it is better
to produce a bad effect than none at all.

Mrs. Feversham, of Bruton Street, was an old friend of Lady Gore's,
whose junior she was by a few years. She had no daughters of her own,
and had in consequence an immense amount of undisciplined energy at the
service of those of other people. She was not a lady whose views were
apt to be matured in silence; she was ardently concerned about Rachel's
future, and she was constantly imparting new projects to Lady Gore, who
received them with smiling equanimity.

It was at an "At Home" given by Mrs. Feversham one evening early in the
season, when the rooms were full of hot people talking at the top of
their voices, that the hostess, looking round her with a comprehensive
glance, saw Rachel standing alone. There was, however, in the girl's
demeanour none of that air of aggressive solitude sometimes assumed by
the neglected. The eye fell upon Rachel with a sense of rest, looking on
one who did not wish to go anywhere or to do anything, who was standing
with unconscious grace an entirely contented spectator of what was
passing before her. Mrs. Feversham's one idea, however, as she perceived
her was instantly to suggest that she should do something else, that at
any price some one should take her to have some tea, or make her eat or
walk, or do anything, in fact, but stand still. Rachel, however, at the
moment she was swooped down upon, was well amused; a smile was
unconsciously playing on her lips as she listened to an absurd
conversation going on between a young man and a girl just in front of
her.

"By George!" said the boy, "it is hot. Let's go and have ices."

"Ices? Right you are," the girl replied, and attempted to follow her
gallant cavalier, who had started off, trying to make for himself a path
through the serried hot crowd, leaving the lady he was supposed to be
convoying to follow him as near as she might.

"Hallo!" he said suddenly. "There's Billy Crowther. Do you mind if I go
and slap him on the back?"

"All right,