exaggeration.

"You must have seen her in a hansom looking-glass," said Iris, smiling
askance at him. "Mrs. Toplady's picture is very different. And the same
applies to Miss Bride; I formed an idea of her from what you told me
which doesn't answer at all to that given me by Mrs. Toplady."

"Mrs. Toplady," replied Dyce, his lips reminiscent of Pont Street,
"inclines to idealism, I have found. It's an amiable weakness, but one
has to be on one's guard against it. Did she say anything about Lord
Dymchurch?"

"Nothing. Why?"

Dyce seemed to reflect; then spoke as if confidentially.

"I suspect there is a little conspiracy against the noble lord. From
certain things that I have observed and heard, I think it probable that
Lady Ogram wants to capture Dymchurch for her niece."

A light shone upon the listener's countenance, and she panted eager
exclamations.

"Really? You think so? But I understood that he was so poor. How is it
possible?"

"Yes. Dymchurch is poor, I believe, but he is a lord. Lady Ogram is
_not_ poor, and I fancy she would like above all things to end her life
as aunt-in-law (if there be such a thing) of a peer. Her weakness, as
we know, has always been for the aristocracy. She's a strong-minded
woman in most things. I am quite sure she prides herself on belonging
by birth to the lower class, and she knows that most aristocrats are
imbeciles; for all that, she won't rest till she has found her niece a
titled husband. This is my private conviction; take it for what it is
worth."

"But," cried Iris, satisfaction still shining on her face, "do you
think there's the least chance that Lord Dymchurch will be caught?"

"A week ago, I should have laughed at the suggestion. Now, I don't feel
at all sure of his safety. He goes about to meet the girl. He's dining
at their hotel to-night."

"You take a great interest in it," said Mrs. Woolstan, her voice
faltering a little.

"Because I am so surprised and disappointed about Dymchurch. I thought
better of him. I took him for a philosopher."

"But Mrs. Toplady says the girl is charming, and very clever."

"That's a matter of opinion. Doesn't Mrs. Toplady strike you as
something of a busybody--a glorified busybody, of course?"

"Oh, I like her! And she speaks very nicely of you."

"I'm much obliged. But, after all, why should she speak otherwise than
nicely of me?"

Whilst Iris was meditating an answer to this question, the cab pulled
up at a great sh