Bubbles had arrived at Wyndfell Hall two days ago.
Donnington had not been able to leave London till to-day.
Bubbles?
Blanche Farrow's brows knit themselves as she thought of her niece, namesake, and godchild.
Bubbles was a strange girl, but then so many girls are strange nowadays! Though an only child, and the apple of her widowed father's eyes, she had deliberately left her home two years ago, and set up for herself in London, nominally to study art.

At once she had become a great success--the kind of success that counts nowadays.

Bubbles' photograph was always appearing in the _Sketch_ and in the _Daily Mirror_.

She was constantly roped in to help in any smart charity affair, and she could dance, act, and sell, with the best.

She was as popular with women as with men, for there was something disarming, attaching, almost elfish, in Bubbles Dunster's charm.