and greys, plump cushions in worked muslin
covers that looked as if they were put on fresh every morning.
Photographs stood about of women looking sweetly into vacancy over the
heads of pretty children, and books of verses, bound daintily in white
and gold, lay on carved tables.

Mrs. Duff-Whalley did not care for Mrs. Jowett's tea-parties, and she
always felt irritated by her drawing-room. The gentle voice of her
hostess made her want to speak louder than usual, and she thought the
conversation insipid to a degree. How could it be anything but insipid
with Mrs. Jowett saying only "How nice," or "What a pity" at intervals?
She did not even seem to care to hear Mrs. Duff-Whalley's news of "the
County," and "dear Lady Tweedie," merely murmuring, "Oh, really," when
told the most interesting and even startling facts.

"Uninterested idiot," thought Mrs. Duff-Whalley to herself as she turned
from her hostess to Miss Mary Duncan, who at least had some sense,
though both she and her sisters had a lamentable lack of style.

Miss Duncan's kind face beamed pleasantly. She was quite willing to
listen to Mrs. Duff-Whalley as long as that lady pleased. She thought
she needed soothing, so she agreed with everything she said, and made
sensible little remarks at intervals. Mrs. Jowett was pouring out a
second cup of tea for Mrs. Duff-Whalley when she said, "And have you
heard about dear little Jean Jardine?"

"Has anything happened to her? I saw her the other day and she was all
right."

"She's quite well, but haven't you heard? She has inherited a large
fortune."

Mrs. Duff-Whalley said nothing for a minute. She could not trust herself
to speak. Despised Jean, whom she had not troubled to ask to her
parties, whom she had always felt she could treat anyhow, so poor was
she and of no account. It had been bad enough to know that she was on
terms of intimacy with Pamela Reston and her brother: to hear Miss
Reston say that she meant to take her to London and entertain for her
and to hear her suggest that Muriel might go to Jean's parties had been
galling, but she had thrust the recollection from her, reflecting that
fine ladies said much that they did not mean, and that probably the
promised visit to London would never materialise. And now to be told
this! A fortune: Jean--it was too absurd!

When she spoke, her voice was shrill with anger in spite of her efforts
to control it.

"It can't be true. The Jardines have no relations th