Would Mr.
Seymour--his wife would be delighted--would he stay to luncheon?
"Why, that is too kind of you," said Seymour, hesitating, "but there are so many of us, such a lot--I mean," he said hurriedly, at Mr.
Trenchard's innocent stare of surprise, "that it's too hard on Mrs.
Trenchard, with so little notice." He broke off confusedly.
"We shall only be too delighted," said Mr.Trenchard.

"And if you have friends ..." "No, no," said Seymour, "I'm quite alone." When, afterwards, he was introduced to Mrs.Trenchard in the drawing-room, he liked her at once.

She was a little woman, very neat, with grey hair brushed back from her forehead.

She was like some fresh, mild-coloured fruit, and an old-fashioned dress of rather faded green silk, and a large locket that she wore gave her a settled, tranquil air as though she had always been the same, and would continue so for many years.

She had a high, fresh colour, a beautiful complexion and her hands had the delicacy of fragile egg-shell china.