She was fifty, was Sophie Gordeloup, but she had so managed her years that she was as active on her limbs as most women are at twenty-five.

And the chicken and the bread sauce, and the sweetbread, and the champagne were there, all very good of their kind; for Sophie Gordeloup liked such things to be good, and knew how to indulge her own appetite, and to coax that, of another person.
Some little satisfaction Lady Ongar received from the fact that she was not alone; but the satisfaction was not satisfactory.

When Sophie had left her at ten o'clock, running off by herself to her lodgings in Mount Street, Lady Ongar, after but one moment's thought, sat down and wrote, a note to Harry Clavering.
"DEAR HARRY--I am back in town.

Pray come and see me to-morrow evening.
"Yours ever, "J.

O.".