I beg your pardon--the Bishop, my dear." The remaining guests drifted in within the next few moments,--the Bishop, Julian's godfather, a curious blend of the fashionable and the devout, the anchorite and the man of the people; Lord and Lady Shervinton, elderly connections of the nondescript variety; Mr.Hannaway Wells, reserved yet, urbane, a wonderful type of the supreme success of mediocrity; a couple of young soldiers, light-hearted and out for a good time, of whom Julian took charge; an Oxford don, who had once been Lord Maltenby's tutor; and last of all the homely, very pleasant-looking, middle-aged lady, Princess Torski, followed by her niece.

There were a few introductions still to be effected.
Whilst Lady Maltenby was engaged in this task, which she performed at all times with the unfailing tact of a great hostess, Julian broke off in his conversation with the two soldiers and looked steadfastly across the room at Catherine Abbeway, as though anxious to revise or complete his earlier impressions of her.

She was of medium height, not unreasonably slim, with a deliberate but noticeably graceful carriage.
Her complexion was inclined to be pale.

She had large, soft brown eyes, and hair of an unusual shade of chestnut brown, arranged with remarkably effective simplicity.

She wore a long string of green beads around her neck, a black tulle gown without any relief of colour, but a little daring in its cut.