wrote to Lane to the effect that he would be very
welcome, which was perfectly true; but I was somewhat exercised in my
mind regarding Lady Barthrop's garden-party, although, when her card
of invitation reached me, I replied at once with a formal acceptance.
Sir George Barthrop's house, Deene Place, was quite one of the show
places of the district, and the baronet and his lady were very
prominent people indeed in that part of the county.

Every time my eye fell upon the invitation card, I was conscious of a
sense of irritation and disturbance. What had I to do with
garden-parties? The idea of my attending such a function was absurd. I
should have nothing whatever in common with the people there, nor they
with me. Either I should never again meet one of them, or their
acquaintance would be an irritation and a nuisance to me, robbing me
of my treasured sense of complete independence in that countryside.
Finally, I decided that I would have a headache when the time came,
and get Lane to make my excuses-- 'Not that the hostess, or any one
else there, would know or care anything about my absence or presence,'
I thought.

But my unsocial intention was airily swept aside by Ernest Lane. I did
accompany him to Deene Place, and in due course was presented by him
to Sir George and Lady Barthrop. No sooner had we left the host and
hostess to make way for other guests than Lane touched my elbow.

'Here's the first of the five Graces,' he whispered, nodding towards a
lady who was walking down the terrace in our direction. I remembered
that my friend had five sisters, and a moment later I was being
introduced to this particular member of the sisterhood, whose name, as
I gathered, was Cynthia. As Lane moved away from us just then, to
speak to some one else, I asked my companion if she had been going to
any particular place when we met her. She smiled as we walked slowly
down the terrace steps to the lawn.

'I am afraid my only object just then was the ungracious one of evading
Sir George and Lady Barthrop,' she said. 'Theirs is such a dreadfully
busy neighbourhood. I think being solemnly introduced to a stream of
people is rather a terrible ordeal, don't you?'

'The experience would at least have the advantage of novelty for me,'
I told her. 'But, upon the whole, I fancy I should perhaps prefer a
visit to the dentist.'

'Really!' she laughed. 'Now I didn't know men ever felt like that.
It's exactly how I feel about it. It real