"Where had we better dine?" she questioned. "Do any of you belong to the Orleans Club?" I was silent on purpose, but a tactless man at once said, "Leslie Ward's the man; he's a member," so I knew I was "in for it," and as I had received much hospitality at Theobald's, and as I was aware of no rule that would interfere with our arrangement, beyond the one which prohibited the introduction of actresses, I acquiesced. "Capital," said Lady Meux, "we will dine there and I will stand the dinner." On the following day, upon arriving in town I hurried to the Orleans Club. There I ordered a table to be ready for dinner in the private room that evening, and to be nicely decorated with flowers. When my lady guest arrived with her small party, which included a parson, I was requested in the usual way to write their names in the visitors' book. After this was done, we proceeded to the private dining-room; but "My Lady," to my utmost astonishment, with a look of disgust on her face turned to the door, saying-- "This won't do! We will dine in the public room." Fortunately, as it was August, that was quite empty, so we dined in comfort, having the room to ourselves. A few days after, I received a letter from the club, saying that the committee had met and considered that I should be asked to take my name off the books immediately. I then wrote explaining that I was quite ignorant of a rule which it seems had been (so innocently) violated when I introduced my guest to the club. I received a reply written in quite a friendly spirit, saying they had taken my letter into consideration, and that I was reinstated. Lady Meux was a hero-worshipper, and one of her peculiarities, which in later years almost amounted to a mania, was the desire to leave her property to a hero. Her difficulty in making a selection must have been great. The popular generals or naval men who had distinguished themselves held very high places in her esteem. Her sporting instinct, which was very strong, was sometimes carried to extremes; for instance, she once wished to test the courage of a nephew of her husband's who was staying in her house, and engaged a professor in the gentle art of prize-fighting to come down and try the boy. The man, by way of a preliminary, knocked the boy about a little, which did not satisfy Lady Meux, who urged the prize-fighter on to harder blows. When the boy's blood began to flow, she was delighted, and considered the ordeal was making a man of him; he made a very plucky stand against his professional antagonist, and when his strength was just at its ebb, the thoughtful lady let him off, and immediately gave him a handsome present for the pluck he had shown.