two quite
different things."

Nan lit a cigarette with deliberation.

"I'll tell you what is remarkable about Peter Mallory," she said.
"He's _sahib_--right through. Very few men are."

Kitty, always tolerant and charitable, patted her arm deprecatingly.

"Oh, come, Nan, that's rather sweeping. There are heaps of nice men in
the world."

"Heaps," assented Nan agreeably. "Heaps--bless 'em! But very few
_preux chevaliers_. I only know two--one is my lamb of an uncle and
the other is Peter."

"And where does my poor Barry come in?"

Nan smiled across at her indulgently.

"Barry? Pooh! He's just a delightful overgrown schoolboy--and you
know it!"

* * * * * *

July in London, hot, dusty, and oppressive. Even the breezy altitude
of the top-floor flat could not save its occupants from the intense
heat which seemed to be wafted up from the baking streets below. The
flat was "at home" to-day, the festive occasion indicated by the
quantities of flowers which adorned it--big bowls of golden-hearted
roses, tall vases of sweet peas--the creamy-yellow ones which merge
into oyster pink, while the gorgeous royal scarlet of "King Edward"
glowed in dusky corners.

Penelope trailed somewhat lethargically hither and thither, adding last
touches to the small green tables, arranged in readiness for bridge,
and sighing at the oppressive heat of the afternoon. First she opened
the windows to let in the air, then closed them to shut out the heat,
only to fling them open once again, exclaiming impatiently:

"Phew! I really don't know which is the cooler!"

"Neither!" responded a gay voice from the doorway. "The bottomless pit
would probably be refreshingly draughty in comparison with town just
now."

Penelope whirled round to find Kitty, immaculate in white from head to
foot and looking perfectly cool and composed, standing on the threshold.

"How do you manage it?" she said admiringly. "Even in this sweltering
heat, when the rest of us look as though we had run in the wash, you
give the impression that you've just stepped out of a refrigerated
bandbox."

"Appearances are as deceitful as usual, then," replied Kitty, sinking
down into an arm-chair and unfurling a small fan. "I'm simply melted!
Am I the first arrival?" she continued. "Where's Nan?"

"She and Peter are decorating the tea-table--smiles and things, you
know"--Penelope waved an explanatory hand.

Kitty nodded.