rear door, and the big clock proclaimed that the hour was half-past eleven.  Hugh and Mr. Pembroke were standing at the foot of the stairs, gazing upward.  And Honora, following their glances, beheld the two ladies, in the negligee referred to above, with their elbows on the railing of the upper hall and their faces between their hands, engaged in a lively exchange of compliments with the gentlemen.  Mrs. Kame looked sleepy.

“Such a night!” she said, suppressing a yawn.  “My dear, you did well to go to bed.”

“And to cap it all,” cried Mrs. Rindge, “Georgie fell over backwards in one of those beautiful Adam chairs, and there’s literally nothing left of it.  If an ocean steamer had hit it, or a freight tram, it couldn’t have been more thoroughly demolished.”

“You pushed me,” declared Mr. Pembroke.

“Did I, Hugh?  I barely touched him.”

“You knocked him into a cocked hat,” said Hugh.  “And if you’d been in that kimono, you could have done it even easier.”

“Georgie broke the whole whiskey service,—­or whatever it is,” Mrs. Rindge went on, addressing Honora again.  “He fell into it.”

“He’s all right this morning,” observed Mrs. Kame, critically.

“I think I’ll take to swallowing swords and glass and things in public.  I can do it so well,” said Mr. Pembroke.

“I hope you got what you like for breakfast,” said Honora to the ladies.

“Hurry up and come down, Adele,” said Hugh, “if you want to look over the horses before lunch.”

“It’s Georgie’s fault,” replied Mrs. Rindge; “he’s been standing in the door of my sitting-room for a whole half-hour talking nonsense.”

A little later they all set out for the stables.  These buildings at Highlawns, framed by great trees, were old-fashioned and picturesque, surrounding three sides of a court, with a yellow brick wall on the fourth.  The roof of the main building was capped by a lantern, the home of countless pigeons.  Mrs. Rindge was in a habit, and one by one the saddle horses were led out, chiefly for her inspection; and she seemed to Honora to become another woman as she looked them over with a critical eye and discussed them with Hugh and O’Grady, the stud-groom, and talked about pedigrees and strains.  For she was renowned in this department of sport on many fields, both for recklessness and skill.

“Where did you get that brute, Hugh?” she asked presently.

Honora, who had been talking to Pembroke, looked around with a start.  And at the sight of the great black horse, bought on that unforgettable day, she turned suddenly faint.

“Over here in the country about ten miles,” Chiltern was saying.  “I heard of him, but I didn’t expect anything until I went to look at him last week.”

“What do you call him?” asked Mrs. Rindge.

“I haven’t named him.”

“I’ll give you a name.”

Chiltern looked at her.  “What is it?” he said.