een dancing with the young Catholic nobodies,
their names were struck off the lists, and they were asked to no more
private dances at the Castle. Lord Dungory was sent to interview the
Chamberlain, but that official could promise nothing. Mrs. Barton's hand
was therefore forced. It was obligatory upon her to have some place
where she could entertain officers; the Shelbourne did not lend itself
to that purpose. She hired a house in Mount Street, and one that
possessed a polished floor admirably suited to dancing.

Then she threw off the mask, and pirate-like, regardless of the laws of
chaperons, resolved to carry on the war as she thought proper. She'd
have done once and for ever with those beasts of women who abused and
criticized her. Henceforth she would shut her door against them all, and
it would only be open to men--young men for her daughters, elderly men
for herself. At four o'clock in the afternoon the entertainment began.
Light refreshments, consisting of tea, claret, biscuits, and cigarettes,
were laid out in the dining-room. Having partaken, the company,
consisting of three colonels and some half-dozen subalterns, went
upstairs to the drawing-room. And in recognition of her flirtation with
Harding, a young man replaced Alice at the piano, and for half-a-crown
an hour supplied the necessary music.

Round and round the girls went, passing in turn out of the arms of an
old into those of a young man, and back again. If they stayed their feet
for a moment, Mrs. Barton glided across the floor, and, with insinuating
gestures and intonations of voice, would beg of them to continue. She
declared that it was _la grace et la beaute_, etc. The merriment did not
cease until half-past six. Some of the company then left, and some few
were detained for dinner. A new pianist and fresh officers arrived about
nine o'clock, and dancing was continued until one or two in the morning.
To yawning subalterns the house in Mount Street seemed at first like a
little paradise. The incessant dancing was considered fatiguing, but
there were interludes in which claret was drunk, cigarettes smoked, and
loose conversation permitted in the dining-room.

Then the dinners! Mrs. Barton's dinners are worthy of special study. Her
circle of acquaintances being limited, the same guests were generally
found at her table. Lord Dungory always sat next to her. He displayed
his old-fashioned shirt-front, his cravat, his studs, his urbanity, his
French e