On reaching the station they were met by a rich equipage with two liveried servants, and, after a short drive through beautiful country, they turned into a fine park, and presently drove up before an imposing old country house; for "The Keep" was one of the finest mansions in all that region. It was also one of the most expensive. It had broken its owners to run it. But this was nothing to Creamer of Creamer, Crustback & Company; at least, it was nothing to Mrs. Creamer, or to Mrs. Rhodes, who was her daughter. She had plans, and money was nothing to her. Rhodes was manifestly pleased at Keith's exclamations of appreciation as they drove through the park with its magnificent trees, its coppices and coverts, its stretches of emerald sward and roll of gracious hills, and drew up at the portal of the mansion. Yet he was inclined to be a little apologetic about it, too. "This is rather too rich for me," he said, between a smile and a sigh. "Somehow, I began too late." It was a noble old hall into which he ushered Keith, the wainscoting dark with age, and hung with trophies of many a chase and forgotten field. A number of modern easy-chairs and great rich rugs gave it an air of comfort, even if they were not altogether harmonious. Keith did not see Mrs. Rhodes till the company were all assembled in the drawing-room for dinner. She was a rather pretty woman, distinctly American in face and voice, but in speech more English than any one Keith had seen since landing. Her hair and speech were arranged in the extreme London fashion. She was "awfully keen on" everything she fancied, and found most things English "ripping." She greeted Keith with somewhat more formality than he had expected from Grinnell Rhodes's wife, and introduced him to Colonel Campbell, a handsome, broad-shouldered man, as "an American," which Keith thought rather unnecessary, since no one could have been in doubt about it. Keith found, on his arrival in the drawing-room, that the house was full of company, a sort of house-party assembled for the hunting. Suddenly there was a stir, followed by a hush in the conversation, and monocles and lorgnons went up. "Here she comes," said a man near Keith. "Who is she?" asked a thin woman with ugly hands, dropping her monocle with the air of a man. "La belle Américaine," replied the man beside her, "a friend of the host." "Oh! Not of the hostess?" "Oh, I don't know. I met her last night--" "Steepleton is ahead--wins in a walk." "Oh, she's rich? The castle needs a new roof? Will it be in time for next season?" The gentleman said he knew nothing about it. Keith turned and faced Alice Lancaster.