At first she was quietly amused by the patronage of a woman whose right to bestow it consisted apparently in an acquaintance with English people of station, and some proficiency at bridge; but by and by her condescension grew wearisome, and finally exasperating.

Miss Weston, however, could not have been expected to recognize this.

She was a tall, pale woman, with a coldly formal manner and some taste in dress.
There were several other guests in the house, and the party spent most of the hot afternoon about the tennis net and lounging under the shadow of a big copper beech on the lawn.

Once when Miss Weston left her to play in a set at tennis, Arabella Kinnaird leaned over the back of Ida's chair.
"You seem to have made rather a favorable impression upon Julia Weston, and, as a rule, she's unapproachable," she said, with a mischievous smile.
Ida's eyebrows straightened, which, to those acquainted with her, was a rather ominous sign.
"Won't you keep that woman away from me ?" she begged.

"I don't want to be rude, but if I see very much more of her, I may not be able to help it.