‘Not often, I think.’  What were they talking about,—­these people who looked so gay and spoke so languidly?  Miss Kennedy rang for refreshments, hoping to revive them a little.

’But, my dear, how far have you walked in this hot sun?  You see, you quite dismay us country people.  Do tell us!  How far have you walked?’

‘The miles are as unknown to me as the inhabitants,’ she said gayly.  ‘But we brown people are never afraid of the sun.’

‘Miles!’ said Mme. Lasalle looking round her.  ‘Imagine it!’ Then as the lady took a piece of cake, she remarked casually: 

’I think I saw an old acquaintance of mine with you—­Dane Rollo, was it not?’

‘Mr. Rollo?  Yes.’

’He has not been to see me since he came home—­I shall quarrel with him.  I wonder if he has been to Mrs. Powder’s.  Mr. Falkirk, don’t you think Dane had a great penchant for one of Mrs. Powder’s beautiful daughters before he went abroad?’

‘I am not in the confidence of either party, madam,’ replied Mr. Falkirk.

‘If he had he would have taken her with him,’ said another of the party.

’O that don’t follow, you know.  Maybe her mother thought she was too young—­or he, perhaps.  She is a beautiful girl.’

‘Not my style of beauty,’ said the languid lady with an air of repulsion.

‘What has he been doing in Europe all this time?’ pursued Mme. Lasalle.  ‘Been to Norway, hasn’t he?’

‘I believe he went there.’

‘He has relations there, Dr. Maryland told me.’

‘Dr. Maryland knows,’ said Mr. Falkirk.

‘Perhaps he will settle in Norway.’

‘Perhaps he will.’

’But how dreadful for his wife!  Mrs. Powder would not like that.  He’s a great favourite of mine, Dane is; but I am afraid he has rather a reputation for breaking ladies’ hearts.  What do you think, Mr. Falkirk?  He is welcome everywhere.  Maybe it’s Norwegian fashion; but I think Dr. Maryland is very imprudent to let him come into his house again—­if he does.  Do you know the Marylands, my dear?’ turning to Wych Hazel again.

‘They knew me, long ago,’ she said.  ’I have been here but two days now.’

‘The daughter—­this daughter—­is a singular girl, is she not?’

‘I do not know—­I like her,’ said Wych Hazel.

‘Oh she’s very queer,’ said another young lady.

‘I have no doubt she is good,’ Mme. Lasalle went on; ’no doubt at all.  But I have heard she lives in a strange way—­among children and poor people—­going about preaching and making clothes.  A little of that is all very well; I suppose we might all do more of it, and not hurt ourselves; but is not Miss Maryland quite an enthusiast?’

Wych Hazel was getting very much amused.

‘She was not enthusiastic over me,’ she said, ’and I have not seen her tried with anything else.  Where does she preach?’