face, which was strictly speaking not a beautiful one. The figure,
however, was undoubtedly beautiful, indeed, it is doubtful if many
women could show a finer. Ida de la Molle was a large, strong woman,
and there was about her a swing and a lissom grace which is very rare,
and as attractive as it is rare. She was now nearly six-and-twenty
years of age, and not having begun to wither in accordance with the
fate which overtakes all unmarried women after thirty, was at her very
best. Harold Quaritch, glancing at her well-poised head, her perfect
neck and arms (for she was in evening dress) and her gracious form,
thought to himself that he had never seen a nobler-looking woman.

"Why, my dear father," she went on as she watched the candle burn up,
"you made such a fuss this morning about the dinner being punctually
at half-past seven, and now it is eight o'clock and you are not
dressed. It is enough to ruin any cook," and she broke off for the
first time, seeing that her father was not alone.

"Yes, my dear, yes," said the old gentleman, "I dare say I did. It is
human to err, my dear, especially about dinner on a fine evening.
Besides, I have made amends and brought you a visitor, our new
neighbour, Colonel Quaritch. Colonel Quaritch, let me introduce you to
my daughter, Miss de la Molle."

"I think that we have met before," said Harold, in a somewhat nervous
fashion, as he stretched out his hand.

"Yes," answered Ida, taking it, "I remember. It was in the long drift,
five years ago, on a windy afternoon, when my hat blew over the hedge
and you went to fetch it."

"You have a good memory, Miss de la Molle," said he, feeling not a
little pleased that she should have recollected the incident.

"Evidently not better than your own, Colonel Quaritch," was the ready
answer. "Besides, one sees so few strangers here that one naturally
remembers them. It is a place where nothing happens--time passes, that
is all."

Meanwhile the old Squire, who had been making a prodigious fuss with
his hat and stick, which he managed to send clattering down the flight
of stone steps, departed to get ready, saying in a kind of roar as he
went that Ida was to order in the dinner, as he would be down in a
minute.

Accordingly she rang the bell, and told the maid to bring in the soup
in five minutes and to lay another place. Then turning to Harold she
began to apologise to him.

"I don't know what sort of dinner you will get, Colonel Quaritc