“Undoubtedly.  A very honourable man.”

“So I hear from other sources,” said Lady Ogram.  “It’s probably true.  I should rather like to know Lord Dymchurch.  He would be an interesting man to know, don’t you think?”

As not infrequently happened, their eyes met in a mute interchange of thought.

“Interesting—­yes,” replied Constance, slowly.  And she added, pressing the nib of her pen on her finger-nail, “They say he doesn’t marry just because he is poor and honourable.”

“It’s possible,” Lady Ogram rejoined, and, after a moment’s reflection, said in an absent voice that the day’s correspondence was finished.

CHAPTER XII

Though Mrs. Toplady seldom rose much before midday, it was not the mere luxury of repose that kept her in her chamber.  As a rule, she awoke from refreshing sleep at eight o’clock.  A touch on the electric button near her hand summoned a maid, who appeared with tea, the morning’s post, and a mass of printed matter:  newspapers, reviews, magazines, volumes, which had arrived by various channels since noon on the previous day.  Apparatus of perfected ingenuity, speedily attached to the bed, enabled her to read or write in any position that she found easiest.  First of all she went through her letters, always numerous, never disquieting—­for Mrs. Toplady had no personal attachments which could for a moment disturb her pulse, and her financial security stood on the firmest attainable basis.  Such letters as demanded a reply, she answered at once, and with brevity which in her hands had become an art.  Appeals for money, public or private, she carefully considered, responding with a cheque only when she saw some distinct advantage—­such as prestige or influence—­to be gained by the pecuniary sacrifice.  Another touch on the button, and there entered a graceful woman of discreet visage, with whom Mrs. Toplady held colloquy for half an hour; in that time a vast variety of concerns, personal, domestic, mundane, was discussed and set in order.  Left to herself again, Mrs. Toplady took up the newspapers; thence she passed to the bulkier periodicals; lastly, to literature in volume.  Her manner of reading betokened the quick-witted woman who sees at a glance the thing she cares for, and refuses to spend a moment on anything not immediately attractive.  People marvelled at the extent of her acquaintance with current writing; in truth, she never read a book, but skimmed the pages just sufficiently for her amusement and her social credit.  In the world of laborious idleness, Mrs. Toplady had a repute for erudition; she was often spoken of as a studious and learned woman; and this estimate of herself she inclined to accept.  Having daily opportunity of observing the fathomless ignorance of polite persons, she made it her pride to keep abreast with the day’s culture.  Genuine curiosity, too, supplied her with a motive, for she had a certain thin, supple, restless intelligence, which took wide surveys of superficial life, and was ever seeking matter for mirth or disdain in the doings of men.