Her lips, at this, parted in a stare; her eyes darkened to the purple of one of the shadow-patches on the sea.

She showed for the passing instant the face of some splendid tragic mask, and I remembered for the inconsequence of it what Mrs.
Meldrum had said about her sight.

I had derived from this lady a worrying impulse to catechise her, but that didn't seem exactly kind; so I substituted another question, inquiring who the pretty young man in knickerbockers might happen to be.
"Oh a gentleman I met at Boulogne.

He has come over to see me." After a moment she added: "Lord Iffield." I had never heard of Lord Iffield, but her mention of his having been at Boulogne helped me to give him a niche.

Mrs.Meldrum had incidentally thrown a certain light on the manners of Mrs.Floyd-Taylor, Flora's recent hostess in that charming town, a lady who, it appeared, had a special vocation for helping rich young men to find a use for their leisure.