ere fall or the unexpected sight of a man, to produce a serious
crisis."

Mrs. Bleeker shook her head with the stubborn common sense which was the
reactionary result of her romantic escapade.

"A fall might hurt anybody," she rejoined, "but I'm sure I don't see why
the mere sight of a man should. I've looked at one every day for thirty
years and fattened on it, too."

"That," replied Mrs. Payne, who still delighted to prick at the old
scandal with a delicate dissecting knife, "is because you have only
encountered the sex in domestic shackles. As for me, I haven't the least
doubt in the world that the sudden shock of beholding a man after forty
years would be her death blow."

"But she has seen Percival," insisted Mrs. Bleeker; and feeling that her
illustration did not wholly prove her point added, weakly, "at least he
wears breeches."

"I would not see him if I could help myself," broke in Angela, with
sudden energy. "I never--never--never wish to see a man again in this
world or the next."

Mrs. Payne glanced sternly at Mrs. Bleeker and followed it with an
emphatic head shake, which said as plainly as words, "So there's your
argument."

"All the same, I don't believe Robert would shock her," remarked Mrs.
Bleeker.

"Never--never--never," repeated Angela in a frozen agony, and, rising,
she walked restlessly up and down again until a servant appeared to
inform the visiting sisters that dinner and Miss Wilde awaited them
below.

CHAPTER III

APOLOGISES FOR AN OLD-FASHIONED ATMOSPHERE

As soon as dinner was over Uncle Percival retired with Mr. Bleeker into
the library, from which retreat there issued immediately the shrill
piping of the flute. Mr. Bleeker, with an untouched glass of sherry at
his elbow and an unlighted cigar in his hand, sank back into the placid
after-dinner reverie which is found in the rare cases when old age has
encountered a faultless digestion. The happiest part of his life was
spent in the pleasant state between waking and sleeping, while as yet
the flavour of his favourite dishes still lingered in his mouth--just as
the most blissful moments known to Uncle Percival were those in which he
piped his cherished airs upon his antiquated instrument. The eldest
member of the Wilde family was very old indeed--had in fact successfully
rounded some years ago the critical point of his eightieth birthday, and
there was the zest of a second childhood in the animation with which he
had re