le of the
furniture formerly displayed in Hamilton Terrace, with such alterations
and novelties as were imposed by the fashion of today. She offered her
guest a most dainty little meal; a luncheon such as Alma could not
possibly have devised, in spite of all her reminiscences.

'Civilisation is a great thing,' Sibyl remarked. 'It's good to have
been in savagery, just to appreciate one's privileges.'

'But you liked Honolulu?'

'Honolulu--yes. I was thinking of Queensland. There's no barbarism at
Honolulu, if you keep out of sight of the Americans and Europeans. Yes,
I enjoyed myself there. I think I could go back and live out my life at
Waikiki.'

'It astonished me that you didn't make an effort to go with Hugh to
that great volcano. I have read about it since, and I'm sure I should
have faced anything.'

'Kilauea,' murmured Sibyl, with a dreamy air, as she raised the
wine-glass to her lips. 'I was lazy, no doubt. The climate, you know;
and then I don't care much about bubbling lava. It was much nicer to
watch the gold-fish at Waikiki.--Where is your husband today?'

'Of all things in the world, gone to Lord's! He says he never saw a
cricket match in his life, and it struck him this morning that it
really was a defect in his education. Of course, he was thinking of
Hughie. He wants Hughie to be a cricketer and horseman and everything
that's robust.'

'Just like Hugh,' replied Sibyl, laughing. 'I should feel the same if I
had a boy. I like open-air men--though I shouldn't care always to live
among them.'

'Hugh at Coventry still?' Alma inquired.

Her hostess gave a nod, with a look intimating that she would say more
when the servant left them free to talk. She added----

'Do you know Mrs. Strangeways?'

'I seem to remember a Mr. Strangeways,' replied Alma, 'but I can't
think how or where.'

'Yes, he's a man who goes about a good deal. His wife was the widow of
that artist who promised so well, and got into a scrape, and died
miserably--Edward--no, Egbert Dover. Don't you know that big landscape
that hangs in Mrs. Holt's boudoir?--that was one of his. He hid himself
away, and died in a garret or a workhouse--something cheerful. I met
Mrs. Strangeways at Brisbane; she and her husband were globe-trotting.
She might look in this afternoon. I don't know whether you would care
for her; she's rather--rapid, you know. But she remembers hearing you
play somewhere--spoke of you with great admiration.'

Alma's eye