" "Well," replied her son; "and you spurn the proposal. Sydney was watching her eagerly. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. “How well and jolly you must be feeling. . ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. It is so ridiculous. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time.
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