On the appointed day, Lashmar arrived at Rivenoak.  He was allowed to spend an hour in reposeful solitude ere being admitted to his hostess’s presence.  Conducted at length to the green drawing-room, he found Lady Ogram alone.  She scrutinised him with friendly but searching eye, gave him her hand, and bade him be seated near her.

“I have another visitor coming from London to-day; an old friend of mine, Mrs. Toplady.”

Where had Dyce heard that name?  Somewhere, certainly.  He tried hard to remember, but without success.

“I think you will like her,” pursued Lady Ogram, “and she will perhaps be useful to you.  She likes to know everybody who is, or is going to be, somebody.  She’ll ask you, no doubt, to her house in Pont Street, where you’ll meet a great many fools and some reasonable people.  She herself, I may tell you, is no fool, but she has a good deal more patience with that sort than I ever had, and so, of course, has many more friends.  She’s what they call a leader of Society, yet she doesn’t grudge leaving London for a day or two in the beginning of the Season to do me a service.”

“I seem to know her name,” said Dyce.

“Of course you do, if you ever read about what Society is doing.”

Lady Ogram always uttered the word with a contemptuous lip, but plainly she did not dislike to have it understood that Society, in certain of its representatives, took respectful account of her.

“And now,” she continued, “I want to tell you about some other friends of mine you’re to meet at dinner tomorrow.  Most of them belong to Hollingford, and you will have to know them.”

Very pungently did she sketch these personages.  When her listener showed amusement, Lady Ogram was pleased; if he seemed to find the picture too entertaining, she added—­“But he—­or she—­is not a fool, remember that.”  So did the talk go on, until a servant entered to announce the arrival of Mrs. Toplady, who had gone to her room, and, being rather tired, would rest there till dinner-time.

“Where is Miss Bride?” asked Lady Ogram.

“Miss Bride has just returned from Hollingford, my lady.”

“I remember,” said the hostess to her guest.  “She had an appointment with Mrs. Gallantry, who has her eye on a house for the training-school.  I suppose we must set the thing going; there’s no harm in it.”

Constance entered in a few minutes, greeted Lashmar as if she saw him every day, and began to talk about Mrs. Gallantry’s project.

When, a couple of hours later, Dyce came down dressed for dinner, Mrs. Toplady was already in the drawing-room.  He heard her voice, a well-modulated contralto which held the ear, and, looking in that direction, saw a tall, dark-robed woman, of middle age, with a thin face, its lines rather harsh, but in general effect handsome, and a warm complexion, brightly red upon the prominent cheek-bones.  Jewelry sparkled in her hair, from her white throat, and on her. fingers.  As Lashmar came forward, she finished what she was saying, and turned her eyes upon him with expectant interest; a smile at the corner of her lips had a certain mischievousness, quite good-humoured but a little perturbing to one who encountered it, together with the direct dark gaze, for the first time.  Introduction having been performed with Lady Ogram’s wonted carelessness, Mrs. Toplady said at once: