er mind, your remark reminds me of a story about a
great-great-grandmother of mine. A granddaughter of hers had become
engaged and there was a great family meeting to introduce the poor
victim to his future "in-laws." The old lady was very deaf and had
formed the habit of speaking aloud quite unconscious that others could
hear her. The wretched young man was brought up and presented, and
everybody was agog to hear the grandmotherly pronouncement, for the old
lady was as shrewd as she was frank. She looked at the young man
keenly and deliberately, whilst he stood the picture of discomfort, and
turning to her granddaughter, said, "Well, my dear, I hope you'll be
happy, I hope you'll be very happy," then to herself in an equally loud
voice she added, "But he wouldn't have been my choice, he wouldn't have
been my choice."

"Oh! the poor dear," said Mrs. Hamilton, seeing only the tragic side of
the situation.

Patricia laughed. "How like you, you dear little grey lady," and she
bent down and kissed the pale cheeks, bringing a slight rose flush to
them.

It was half-past seven before Mrs. Hamilton left Patricia's room.

"Heigh-ho!" sighed Patricia as she undid her hair, "I suppose I shall
have to run the gauntlet during dinner."

CHAPTER VII

LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION

Sunday supper at Galvin House was a cold meal timed for eight o'clock;
but allowed to remain upon the table until half-past nine for the
convenience of church-goers.

Patricia had dawdled over her toilette, realising, however, to admit
that she dreaded the ordeal before her in the dining-room. When at
last she could find no excuse for remaining longer in her room, she
descended the stairs slowly, conscious of a strange feeling of
hesitancy about her knees.

Outside the dining-room door she paused. Her instinct was to bolt; but
the pad-pad of Gustave's approaching footsteps cutting off her retreat
decided her. As she entered the dining-room the hum of excited
conversation ceased abruptly and, amidst a dead silence, Patricia
walked to her seat conscious of a heightened colour and a hatred of her
own species.

Looking round the table, and seeing how acutely self-conscious everyone
seemed, her self-possession returned. She noticed a new deference in
Gustave's manner as he placed before her a plate of cold shoulder of
mutton and held the salad-bowl at her side. Having helped herself
Patricia turned to Miss Wangle, and for a moment