ricken with sore throat that grieved her; or whether it was the last
atrocity in crime that made her flesh creep and so disquieted her, it
was impossible to say; but that Lady Mary fidgeted considerably over
her journal was a fact past dispute. A looker-on, had there been one,
would have noticed that her eye frequently wandered from the page to
the door; and as the clock on the mantelpiece chimed eleven, she rose
from her chair with a petulant gesture and walked towards the window.
A few minutes more, and her patience was rewarded: Pansey Cottrell
strolled into the room, and rang lazily for some fresh tea.

"You're shamefully late, Pansey; you always are, I know," she said, as
she advanced with outstretched hand to greet him. "But it was too bad
of you to be so when I am so particularly anxious to talk to you."

"My dear Lady Mary, why did you not send me word upstairs? You know my
usual habits; but you know also that I break them without hesitation
whenever I can be of service to a lady, or even gratify her caprice."

Lady Mary laughed, as she said, "I know better than to exact such a
tremendous sacrifice." She was perfectly well aware that Cottrell,
blandly as he might talk, never submitted to the faintest interference
with what he termed his natural hours. "You are in my confidence," she
continued, "and have seen how circumstances combined against me. Who
could have dreamt those Chipchase girls had such a provokingly pretty
cousin? They had never even mentioned her very existence."

"Yes, it is awkward," replied Cottrell slowly, "a Miss Chipchase
turning up who is dangerous--decidedly dangerous."

"Yes; and the rector's daughters have always been so intimate with us
all that it is difficult to keep them at a distance--in fact, since
they amalgamated with our party at that dreadful ball, impossible.
Tell me, what do you think of this Sylla Chipchase? You met her down
in Suffolk. She is just the saucy chit men go wild about, I suppose?"

"Well," replied Cottrell, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes, "there
is no real harm in the girl; but she'd flirt with a bishop if she sat
next to him at dinner. And as for men going wild about her, we had two
or three very pretty women at Hogden's last year; and the manner in
which some of those fellows wavered in their allegiance was positively
shameful."

"Men always _do_ make such fools of themselves about girls of that
sort," said Lady Mary, with no little asperi