.

"A mile and a half, I should say."

"And it is now twenty minutes to two," said he, rising. "It will be a
nice smart walk."

"Thank you," said Mr. Ogilvie; "if it is all the same to you, we will
perform the journey in a hansom. I am not in training just at present
for your tramps to Ben-an-Sloich."

"Ah! Your boots are rather tight," said Macleod, with grave sympathy.

They got into a hansom, and went spinning along through the crowd of
carriages on this brilliant morning. The busy streets, the handsome
women, the fine buildings, the bright and beautiful foliage of the
parks--all these were a perpetual wonder and delight to the new-comer,
who was as eager in the enjoyment of this gay world of pleasure and
activity as any girl come up for her first season. Perhaps this notion
occurred to the astute and experienced Lieutenant Ogilvie, who
considered it his duty to warn his youthful and ingenuous friend.

"Mrs. Ross is a very handsome woman," he remarked.

"Indeed."

"And uncommonly fascinating, too, when she likes."

"Really."

"You had better look out, if she tries to fascinate you."

"She is a married woman," said Macleod.

"They are always the worst," said this wise person; "for they are
jealous of the younger women."

"Oh, that is all nonsense," said Macleod, bluntly. "I am not such a
greenhorn. I have read all that kind of talk in books and magazines: it
is ridiculous. Do you think I will believe that married women have so
little self-respect as to make themselves the laughing stock of men?"

"My dear fellow, they have cart-loads of self-respect. What I mean is,
that Mrs. Ross is a bit of a lion-hunter, and she may take a fancy to
make a lion of you--"

"That is better than to make an ass of me, as you suggested."

"--And naturally she will try to attach you to her set. I don't think
you are quite _outre_ enough for her; perhaps I made a mistake in
putting you into decent clothes. You wouldn't have time to get into your
kilts now? But you must be prepared to meet all sorts of queer folks at
her house, especially if you stay on a bit and have some tea--mysterious
poets that nobody ever heard of, and artists who won't exhibit, and
awful swells from the German universities, and I don't know what
besides--everybody who isn't the least like anybody else."

"And what is your claim, then, to go there?" Macleod asked.

"Oh," said the young lieutenant, laughing at the home-thrust, "I am only
admitted