he concluded. 'That kind of girl wouldn't dare to make eyes at a man
unless she had some kind of right to him.'

After tea she produced her cigarette-case.

'I hope you don't mind,' she said to Marion. 'I know it's very shocking,
but I've had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is
delicious to lie on!' She stretched herself at full length as she spoke.
'I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my
life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like
this!'

'Oh,' said Marion, 'it sometimes rains, you know.'

'Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to
wear thick, clumping boots.'

Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude
themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were
patched as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover
them with her skirt.

'Now,' said Hyacinth, 'tell us what you are doing down here. They
haven't made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have
they? or sent you down to improve the breed of hens?'

'No,' said Miss O'Dwyer; 'I have spent the afternoon helping to govern
Ireland.'

Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes
and bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them.

'I have sat in the seats of the mighty,' she said; 'I have breathed the
same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that!
Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.'

'Oh,' said Hyacinth, 'you were at the convent function, I suppose. I
wonder I didn't see you.'

'What on earth were _you_ doing there? I thought you hated the nuns and
all their ways.'

'Go on about yourself,' said Hyacinth. 'You are not employed by the
Government to inspect infant industries, are you?'

'Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here
of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West
British aristocracy. Listen to this: "Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an
important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms.
We are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined
to play a part in robing the _elegantes_ who will shed a lustre on our
house-parties during the autumn." And this--you must just listen to
this.'

'I won't,' said Hyacinth; 'you can if you like, Marion. I'll shut my
ears.'

'Very well,' said Miss O'Dwy