resome lawyers
of mine say they must see me on Thursday at the latest."

"I shall meet you in town at Christmas, however," says Lady Baltimore,
making the remark a question.

"I hardly think so. I have promised the Barings to join them in Italy
about then."

"Well, here then in February."

Lady Swansdown smiles at her hostess, but makes no audible reply.

"I suppose we ought to do something to-day," says Lady Baltimore
presently, in a listless tone. It is plain to everybody, however, that
in reality she wants to do nothing. "Suggest something, Dicky."

"Skittles," says that youth, without hesitation. Very properly, however,
no one takes any notice of him.

"I was thinking that if we went to 'Connor's Cross,' it would be a nice
drive," says Lady Baltimore, still struggling with her duties as a
hostess. "What do you say, Beatrice?"

"I pray you excuse me," says Lady Swansdown. "As I leave to-morrow, I
must give the afternoon to the answering of several letters, and to
other things besides."

"Connor's Cross," says Joyce, idly. "I've so often heard of it. Yet,
oddly enough, I have never seen it; it is always the way, isn't it,
whenever one lives very close to some celebrated spot."

"Celebrated or not, it is at least lovely," says Lady Baltimore. "You
really ought to see it."

"I'll drive you there this afternoon, Miss Kavanagh," says Beauclerk, in
his friendly way, that in public has never a tincture of tenderness
about it. "We might start after luncheon. It is only about ten miles
off. Eh?" to Baltimore.

"Ten," briefly.

"I am right then," equably; "we might easily do it in a little over an
hour."

"Hour and a half with best horse in the stables. Bad road," says
Baltimore.

"Even so we shall get there and back in excellent time," says Beauclerk,
deaf to his brother-in-law's gruffness. "Will you come, Miss Kavanagh?"

"I should like it," says Joyce, in a hesitating sort of way; "but----"

"Then why not go, dear?" says Lady Baltimore kindly. "The Morroghs of
Creaghstown live not half a mile from it, and they will give you tea if
you feel tired; Norman is a very good whip, and will be sure to have you
back here in proper time."

Dysart lifting his head looks full at Joyce.

"At that rate----" says she, smiling at Beauclerk.

"It is settled then," says Beauclerk pleasantly. "Thank you ever so much
for helping me to get rid of my afternoon in so delightful a fashion."

"It is going to rain. It wil