CHAPTER VI.
Mrs.Poyntz was seated on the sofa; at her right sat fat Mrs.Bruce, who was a Scotch lord's grand-daughter; at her left thin Miss Brabazon, who was an Irish baronet's niece.

Around her--a few seated, many standing--had grouped all the guests, save two old gentlemen, who had remained aloof with Colonel Poyntz near the whist-table, waiting for the fourth old gentleman who was to make up the rubber, but who was at that moment spell-bound in the magic circle which curiosity, that strongest of social demons, had attracted round the hostess.
"Taken Abbots' House?
I will tell you .-- Ah, Dr.Fenwick, charmed to see you.

You know Abbots' House is let at last?
Well, Miss Brabazon, dear, you ask who has taken it.

I will inform you,--a particular friend of mine." "Indeed! Dear me!" said Miss Brabazon, looking confused.

"I hope I did not say anything to--" "Wound my feelings.