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"You talk in enigmas to-day.
What on earth do you mean?"
Sir Francis condescended to smile. "Don't be waxy, Clara!" he urged--"I
mean what I say--a new Helen appeared here to-day, and instead of 'tall
Troy' being on fire, as Dante Rossetti puts it, the Row was in a burning
condition of excitement--fellows on horseback galloped the whole length
of the Park to take a last glimpse of her--her carriage dashed off to
Richmond after taking only four turns. She is simply magnificent!"
"Who is she?" and in spite of herself, Lady Winsleigh's smile vanished
and her lips quivered.
"Lady Bruce-Errington," answered Sir Francis readily. "The loveliest
woman in the world, I should say! Phil was beside her--he looks in
splendid condition--and that meek old secretary fellow sat
opposite--Neville--isn't that his name? Anyhow they seemed as jolly as
pipers,--as for that woman, she'll drive everybody out of their wits
about her before half the season's over."
"But she's a mere peasant!" said Mrs.


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