"He came tearing home from some place abroad, but it was all no good—it was a question of money and mortgages, and keeping the old place. He was frightfully cut up, for he was madly in love with Lola; he went straight off to India, where, I believe, he has remained ever since." All this time Angel was wedged in tightly between the deep voice on one side, and a lady who was conscientiously doing the _World_ acrostic on the other. Her parasol she had flung down on the middle of the table, where it was now half covered with papers; she, herself, was entirely concealed behind the weekly _Puppet Show_, though she could not see a picture, or read a line of print. Should she dash down her screen, snatch her parasol, and fly? While she was anxiously debating the question, Pink Dress said: "Mr. Waldershare is dead, and his widow is not wealthy; in fact, she is cut off with an annuity of four hundred pounds a year, so perhaps she will come out here and look for her old love." "Too late," announced Deep Voice, with tragic emphasis (she had the voice of a stage queen); "he is married—he married two years ago." "Oh, really; I did not know." "If you had been out here two years ago, you would have heard a good deal about it. He married his ward, a giddy child, who ran away to him from school. When she arrived, he was fearfully taken aback—and so was the station." "I suppose Mrs. Grundy kicked and screamed?" "Yes; she did not believe in a guardian of six-and-thirty and a ward of eighteen; so, although Major Gascoigne moved heaven and earth to get out of it, he was forced to marry the girl." There was a choking gasp beside Deep Voice, which she attributed to a dog under the table (for dogs and children were alike admitted into the Chitachar club). "And how does Paul hit it off with the child of impulse?" inquired Pink Dress. "Oh, pretty well—on the non-intervention system." "I see—gives her her head—and she turns the heads of the station subalterns?" "I cannot say; I never heard anything about her, except that she is very pretty. Her grandmother is Lady Augusta Gascoigne." "You don't say so! Then Virginia the second is no _ingénue_," and Pink Gown nodded her hat till the feathers waved again. "Lola was lovely," continued her friend, with enthusiasm. "She was deeply attached to Philip, and she sacrificed her happiness for her family. Oh, it was wonderful." "You mean that she was really in love with this young Gascoigne?" "Oh, yes," speaking with all her heart. "Then if she ever comes across her first love—if they meet now she is free——"