“I know nothing about Lady Caroom,” Brooks replied, without any overplus of graciousness.

Selina looked at him in some dismay.

“But you met her at Enton, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I met her there,” Brooks answered, impatiently.  “But I certainly don’t know enough of her to discuss her with Mrs. Huntingdon.  I rather wanted to speak to your cousin.”

Selina’s thin little lips became compressed, and for a moment she forgot to smile.  Her cousin indeed!  Mary, who was sitting there in a plain black gown without a single ornament, and not even a flower, looking for all the world like the poor relation she was!  Selina glanced downwards at the great bunch of roses and maidenhair fern in her bosom, at the fancy and beaded trimming which ran like a nightmare all over her new gown, and which she was absolutely certain had come from Paris; at the heavy gold bracelets which concealed some part of her thin arms; she remembered suddenly the aigrette in her hair, such a finish to her costume, and her self-confidence returned.

“Oh, don’t bother about Mary now.  Mrs. Huntingdon is dying to have you talk to her.  Please do and if you like—­I will give you one of my roses for your button-hole.”

Brooks stood the shock gallantly, and bowed his thanks.  He had met Mrs. Huntingdon before, and they talked together for a quarter of an hour or so.

“I wish I knew why you were here,” was almost her first question.  “Isn’t it all funny?

“Mr. Bullsom has always been very decent to me,” he answered.  “It is through him I was appointed agent to Mr. Henslow.”

“Oh, business!  I see,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders.  “Same here.  I’m a doctor’s wife, you know.  Did you ever see such awful girls! and who in the name of all that’s marvellous can be their dressmaker?”

“Bullsom is a very good sort indeed,” Brooks answered.  “I have a great respect for him.”

She made a little face.

“Who’s the nice-looking girl in black with her hair parted in the middle?” she asked.  “Mr. Bullsom’s niece.  She is quite charming, and most intelligent.”

“Dear me!” Mrs. Huntingdon remarked.  “I had no idea she had anything to do with the family.  Sort of a Cinderella look about her now you mention it.  Couldn’t you get her to come over and talk to me?  I’m horribly afraid of Mrs. Bullsom.  She’ll come out of that dress if she tries to talk, and I know I shall laugh.”

“I’m sure I can,” Brooks answered, rising with alacrity.  “I’ll bring her over in a minute.”

Mary had just finished arranging a card-table when Brooks drew her on one side.

“About that subject!” he began.

“We shall scarcely have time to talk about it now, shall we?” she answered.  “You will be wanted to play cards or something.  We shall be quite content to leave it to you.”

“I should like to talk it over with you,” he said.  “Do tell me when I may see you.”