"I think--you will soon understand." With an odd, and--for the first time--slightly puzzled look at her visitor, Lady Dunstable said with patronising politeness-- "By all means.

Shall we come to my sitting-room ?" She led the way to the house.

Meadows followed, till a sign from Doris waved him back.

On the way Doris found herself greeted by Sir Luke Malford, bowed to by various unknown gentlemen, and her hand grasped by Miss Field.
"You do look done! Have you come straight from London?
What--is Rachel carrying you off?
I shall send you in a glass of wine and a biscuit directly!" Doris said nothing.

She got somehow through all the curious eyes turned upon her; she followed Lady Dunstable through the spacious passages of the Lodge, adorned with the usual sportsman's trophies, till she was ushered into a small sitting-room, Lady Dunstable's particular den, crowded with photographs of half the celebrities of the day--the poets, _savants_, and artists, of England, Europe, and America.