o Mrs. Pallinson; and about
the opinion of the world in the abstract, Mrs. Branston told herself that
she cared very little. What was the use of being a rich widow, if she was
to be hedged-in by the restrictions which encompass the steps of an
unwedded damsel just beginning life? Emboldened by the absence of her
dowager kinswoman, Mrs. Branston felt herself independent, free to do a
foolish thing, and ready to abide the hazard of her folly.

So, upon the fourth day of her freedom, despairing of any visit from John
Saltram, Adela Branston ordered the solemn-looking butler to send for a
cab, much to the surprise of that portly individual.

"Josephs has just been round asking about the carriage, mum," he said, in
a kind of suggestive way; "whether you'd please to want the b'rouche or
the broom, and whether you'd drive before or after luncheon."

"I shall not want the carriage this morning; send for a cab, if you
please, Parker. I am going into the City, and don't care about taking the
horses there."

The solemn Parker bowed and retired, not a little mystified by this
order. His mistress was a kind little woman enough, but such extreme
consideration for equine comfort is hardly a feminine attribute, and Mr.
Parker was puzzled. He told Josephs the coachman as much when he had
dispatched an underling to fetch the cleanest four-wheeler procurable at
an adjacent stand.

"She's a-going to her banker's I suppose," he said meditatively; "going
to make some new investments perhaps. Women are always a-fidgeting and
chopping and changing with their money."

Mrs. Branston kept the cab waiting half an hour, according to the fairest
reckoning. She was very particular about her toilette that morning, and
inclined to be discontented with the sombre plainness of her widow's
garb, and to fancy that the delicate border of white crape round her
girlish face made her look pale, not to say sallow. She came downstairs
at last, however, looking very graceful and pretty in her trailing
mourning robes and fashionable crape bonnet, in which the profoundest
depth of woe was made to express itself with a due regard to elegance.
She came down to the homely hackney vehicle attended by the obsequious
Berners, whose curiosity was naturally excited by this solitary
expedition.

"Where shall I tell the man to drive, mum?" the butler asked with the
cab-door in his hand.

Mrs. Branston felt herself blushing, and hesitated a little before she
replied