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'He has to have it made large,' growled Sir Wolfrey to Lady Northaw; 'particularly over the forehead.'

'Hush!' said her ladyship with a deprecatory smile; then added aloud: 'Are any of you going to Lady Paribole's? I understand all the smart people in London are to be there.'

'I lay odds that one who thinks herself very smart won't show up,' said Mrs. Ingram; 'because I happen to know that a "distinguished person," as the newspapers say, sent for the list and ran his pen through her name.'

'Whom do you mean?' asked Lady Forestfield.

'Why, that horrible old Mrs. Van Groot, who, because she is hideous and common-looking, is always going about saying atrocious things of everybody nice.'

'I don't care much about Mrs. Van Groot myself,' said Sir Wolfrey; 'but it's enough to make a woman rear and plunge a bit when she has to run in double harness with such an unmitigated cad as Van Groot. The little Dutch pug is always getting up in the House, whelping and snarling at his betters.'

'I don't think it makes much matter what sort of a husband a woman may happen to have,' said Lord Forestfield, speaking deliberately, and looking round with his cold cynical smile. 'If she is naturally wicked, the vice is sure to show itself, no matter what treatment she may receive.'