How the Duchess of Wellingborough was laughing! Her broad shoulders shook. She threw up her chin and showed her white teeth. To her life was surely a splendid game, even in widowhood and old age. The crowd was enough for her. She fed on good stories. And so no doubt she would never go hungry. For a moment Lady Sellingworth thought that she envied the Duchess. But then something deep down in her knew it was not so. To need much--that is greater and better, even if the need brings that sorrow which perhaps many know nothing of. At that moment she connected desire with aspiration, and felt released from her lowest part. Craven was speaking to Mrs. Farringdon; Lady Sellingworth heard her saying, in her curiously muffled, contralto voice: “Old Bean is a wonderful horse. I fancy him for the next Derby. But some people say he is not a stayer. On a hard course he might crack up. Still, he’s got a good deal of bone. The Farnham stable is absolutely rotten at present. Don’t go near it.” “Oh, why did I come?” Lady Sellingworth thought, as she turned again to the Baron. She had lost the habit of the world in her long seclusion. In her retreat she had developed into a sentimentalist. Or perhaps she had always been one, and old age had made the tendency more definite, had fixed her in the torturing groove. She began to feel terribly out of place in this company, but she knew that she did not look out of place. She had long ago mastered the art of appearance, and could never forget that cunning. And she gossiped gaily with the Baron until luncheon at last was over. As she went towards the drawing-room Mrs. Ackroyde joined her. “You were rather unkind to Alick Craven, Adela,” she murmured. “Has he offended you?” “On the contrary. I think he’s a charming boy.” “Don’t punish him all the afternoon then.” “But I am not going to be here all the afternoon. I have ordered the car for half-past three.” “It’s that now.” “Well, then I must be going almost directly.” “You must stay for tea. A lot of people are coming, and we shall have music. Alick Craven only accepted because I told him you would be here.” “But you told me he had accepted when you asked me.” “That’s how I do things when I really want people who may not want to come. I lied to both of you, and here you both are.” “Well at any rate you are honest in confession.” “I will counterorder your car. Henry, please tell Lady Sellingworth’s chauffeur that he will be sent for when he is wanted. Oh, Anne, welcome the wandering sheep back to the social fold!” She threaded her way slowly through the crowd, talking calmly to one and another, seeing everything, understanding everything, tremendously at home in the midst of complications.