"My dears," Lady Amesbury said, as she stood surrounded by her guests on the hearth rug of her drawing-room, "you know what my Sunday night dinner parties are--all sorts and plenty of them, and never a dull man or a plain woman if I can help it.

To-night I've got a new man.

He's not much to look at, but they tell me he's a multimillionaire and making all the poor people of the country miserable.

He's doing something about making bread dearer.

I never did understand these things." "Heavens, you don't mean Peter Phipps!" Sarah exclaimed.
"His very name," her aunt declared.