"I've just been asked by Lady Blunket how many miles it is to Wardlock, and I'm ashamed to say I can't answer her," cried Sir Jekyl diagonally to Lady Alice, so as to cut off four people at his left hand, whose conversation being at the moment in a precarious way, forthwith expired, and the Baronet and his mother-in-law were left in possession of this part of the stage. The old lady, as I have said, looked ill and very tired, and as if she had grown all at once very old; and instead of answering, she only nodded once or twice, and signed across the table to Lady Jane. "Oh! I forgot," said Sir Jekyl; "you know Wardlock and all our distances, don't you, Lady Jane--can you tell me?" "I don't remember," said Lady Jane, hardly turning toward him; "ten or twelve miles--is not it? it may be a good deal more. I don't really recollect;" and this was uttered with an air which plainly said, "I don't really care." "I generally ride my visits, and a mile or two more or less does not signify; but one ought to know all the distances for thirty miles round; you don't know otherwise who's your neighbour." "Do you think it an advantage to know that any particular person _is_ your neighbour?" inquired impertinent Drayton, with his light moustache, leaning back and looking drowsily into his glasses after his wont. "Oh! Mr. Drayton, the country without neighbours--how dreadful!" exclaimed Miss Blunket. "Existence without friends." "Friends--bosh!" said Drayton, confidentially, to his wine. "There's Drayton scouting friendship, the young cynic!" cried Sir Jekyl. "Do call him to order, Lady Jane." "I rather incline to agree with Mr. Drayton," said Lady Jane, coldly. "Do you mean to say you have no friends?" said Sir Jekyl, in well-bred amazement. "Quite the contrary--I have too many." "Come--that's a new complaint. Perhaps they are very new friends?" inquired the Baronet. "Some of them very old, indeed; but I've found that an old friend means only an old person privileged to be impertinent." Lady Jane uttered a musical little laugh that was very icy as she spoke, and her eye flashed a single insolent glance at old Lady Alice. At another time perhaps a retort would not have been wanting, but now the old woman's eye returned but a wandering look, and her face expressed nothing but apathy and sadness. "Grandmamma, dear, I'm afraid you are very much tired," whispered Beatrix when they reached the drawing-room, sitting beside her after she had made her comfortable on a sofa, with cushions to her back; "you would be better lying down, I think." "No, dear--no, darling. I think in a few minutes I'll go to my room. I'm not very well. I'm tired--_very_ tired." And poor old granny, who was speaking very gently, and looking very pale and sunken, sighed deeply--it was almost a moan.