not to take her in."

"To-morrow night," Lady Grenside promised.

"That's all very well," Carton grumbled. "I wish she didn't look so
thundering pleased with herself."

Lady Grenside leaned a little towards him.

"Elisabeth is a dear girl," she declared. "She is doing all this for
her uncle's sake. Mr. Foley is very anxious indeed to conciliate this
man, and Elisabeth is helping him. You know how keen she is on doing
what she can in that way."

Carton nodded a little more hopefully. His eyes were fixed now upon
Maraton.

"Can't think how the fellow learnt to turn himself out like that. I
thought these sort of people dressed anyhow."

Lady Grenside shrugged her shoulders.

"I believe," she said, "that this man is full of queer contradictions.
Some one once told me that he was enormously wealthy; that he had been
to an English public school and changed his name out in America.
Rubbish, I expect. . . . Run and find Lily, there's a dear boy. We
are going in now."

Dinner was served at a round table, and a good deal of the conversation
was general. On Maraton's left hand, however, was a lady whose horror