an idea beyond the realms of
sport; he had never had a will of his own outside his stable. To shoot
pigeons at Hurlington or Monaco, to keep half a dozen leather-platers,
and attend every race from the Craven to the Leger, to hunt four days a
week, when he was allowed to spend a winter in England, and to saunter
and sleep away all the hours which could not be given to sport,
comprised Sir George's idea of existence. He had never troubled himself
to consider whether there might not possibly be a better way of getting
rid of one's life. He was as God had made him, and was perfectly
satisfied with himself and the universe; save at such times as when a
favourite horse went lame, or his banker wrote to tell him that his
account was overdrawn.

Sir George had no children; he had never had a serious care in his life.
He never thought, he never read. Lady Kirkbank declared that she had
never seen him with a book in his hands since their marriage.

'I don't believe he would know at which end to begin,' she said.

What was the specific charge which the very particular people brought
against Lady Kirkbank? Such charges rarely _are_ specific. The idea that
the lady belonged to the fast and furious section of society, the
Bohemia of the upper ten, was an idea in the air. Everybody knew it. No
one could quite adequately explain it.

From thirty to fifty Lady Kirkbank had been known as a flirty matron.
Wherever she went, a train of men went with her; men young and
middle-aged and elderly; handsome youths from the public offices; War,
Admiralty, Foreign Office, Somerset House young men; attractive men of
mature years, with grey moustachios, military, diplomatic, horsey, what
you will, but always agreeable. At home, abroad, Lady Kirkbank was never
without her court; but the court was entirely masculine. In those days
the fair Georgie did not scruple to say that she hated women, and that
girls were her particular abomination. But as the years rolled on Lady
Kirkbank began to find it very difficult to muster her little court, to
keep her train in attendance upon her. 'The birds were wild,' Sir George
said. Her young adorers found their official duties more oppressive than
hitherto; her elderly swains had threatenings of gout or rheumatism
which prevented their flocking round her as of old at race meeting or
polo match. They were loyal enough in keeping their engagements at the
dinner table, for Lady Kirkbank's cook was one of the best