ve voice
said:

"But why sharpen your teeth on the poor curates? Is there no a canon or a
bishop handy that's better worth a bite?"

It was Mrs. Callender.

"I tell ye a story too, only _mine_ shall be a true one."

"Jane! Jane!" said the hostess, shaking her fan as a weapon; and Lord
Robert stretched his neck over his collar and made an amiable smile.

"A girl of eighteen came to me this morning at Soho, and she was in the
usual trouble. The father was a wicked rector. He died last year leaving
thirty-one thousand pounds; and the mother of his unfortunate child--that
is to say, his mistress--is now in the Union."

It was the first sincere word that had been spoken, where every tone had
been wrong, every gesture false, and it fell on the company like a
thunderclap. John Storm drew his breath hard, looked up at Lord Robert by
a strange impulse, and felt himself avenged.

"What a beautiful day it has been!" said somebody. Everybody looked up at
the maker of this surprising remark. It was a lady, and she blushed until
her cheeks burned again.

A painful silence followed, and then the hostess turned to Lord Robert
and said:

"You spoke of your friend Drake, didn't you? Everybody is talking of him,
and as for the girls, they seem to be crazy about the man. So handsome,
they say; so natural, and such a splendid talker. But then, girls are so
quick to take fancies to people. You really must take care of yourself,
my dear." (This to Felicity.) "Who is he? Lord Robert will tell you--an
official of some kind, and son of Sir something Drake, of one of the
northern counties. He knows the secret of getting on in the world, though
he doesn't go about too much. But I've determined not to live any longer
without making the acquaintance of this wonderful being, so Lord Robert
must just bring him along Tuesday evening, or else----"

John Storm escaped at last, without promising to come to the "At Home."
He went direct to the hospital and learned that Glory was out for the
day. Where she could have gone, and what she could be doing, puzzled him
grievously. That she had not put herself under his counsel and direction
on her first excursion abroad hurt his pride and wounded his sense of
responsibility. As the night fell his anxiety increased. Though he knew
she would not return until ten, he set out at nine to meet her.

At a venture he took the eastward course, and passed slowly down
Piccadilly. The facade of nearly every club