Excepting the conservatory, the astonished guests could go nowhere without discovering tables prettily decorated with flowers, and bearing hundreds of little pure white china plates, loaded with nothing but sandwiches.  All varieties of opinion were consulted.  People of ordinary tastes, who liked to know what they were eating, could choose conventional beef or ham, encased in thin slices of bread of a delicate flavor quite new to them.  Other persons, less easily pleased, were tempted by sandwiches of pate de fois gras and by exquisite combinations of chicken and truffles, reduced to a creamy pulp which clung to the bread like butter.  Foreigners, making experiments, and not averse to garlic, discovered the finest sausages of Germany and Italy transformed into English sandwiches.  Anchovies and sardines appealed, in the same unexpected way, to men who desired to create an artificial thirst—­after having first ascertained that the champagne was something to be fondly remembered and regretted, at other parties, to the end of the season.  The hospitable profusion of the refreshments was all-pervading and inexhaustible.  Wherever the guests might be, or however they were amusing themselves, there were the pretty little white plates perpetually tempting them.  People eat as they had never eat before, and even the inveterate English prejudice against anything new was conquered at last.  Universal opinion declared the Sandwich Dance to be an admirable idea, perfectly carried out.

Many of the guests paid their hostess the compliment of arriving at the early hour mentioned in the invitations.  One of them was Major Hynd.  Lady Loring took her first opportunity of speaking to him apart.

“I hear you were a little angry,” she said, “when you were told that Miss Eyrecourt had taken your inquiries out of your hands.”

“I thought it rather a bold proceeding, Lady Loring,” the Major replied.  “But as the General’s widow turned out to be a lady, in the best sense of the word, Miss Eyrecourt’s romantic adventure has justified itself.  I wouldn’t recommend her to run the same risk a second time.”

“I suppos e you know what Romayne thinks of it?”

“Not yet.  I have been too busy to call on him since I have been in town.  Pardon me, Lady Loring, who is that beautiful creature in the pale yellow dress?  Surely I have seen her somewhere before?”

“That beautiful creature, Major, is the bold young lady of whose conduct you don’t approve.”

“Miss Eyrecourt?”

“Yes.”

“I retract everything I said!” cried the Major, quite shamelessly.  “Such a woman as that may do anything.  She is looking this way.  Pray introduce me.”

The Major was introduced, and Lady Loring returned to her guests.

“I think we have met before, Major Hynd,” said Stella.