It was more or less generally known that she was engaged to Jack Meredith, who, although absent on some vaguely romantic quest of a fortune, was not yet forgotten.

No word, however, was popularly whispered connecting her name with that of any other swain nearer home.

Miss Chyne was too much of a woman of the world to allow that.

But, in the meantime, she rather liked diamond aigrettes and the suppressed devotion of Guy Oscard.
It was the evening of a great ball, and Guy Oscard, having received his orders and instructions, was dining alone in Russell Square, when a telegram was handed to him.

He opened it and spread the thin paper out upon the table-cloth.