'No, sometimes I don't. And then I want you to agree with me. No-one sympathises really so well as you, Charles.' 'Not even Miss Yeo?' 'No, I get on so well with Anne because she doesn't She's always interested, but I prefer her never to agree with me, as she lives here. It would be enervating to have someone always there and perpetually sympathetic. Anne is a tonic.' 'You need a little opposition to keep you up,' said Sir Charles. 'Didn't I once hear something about his being devoted to someone? Wasn't there a report that he was going to be married to a Mrs. Raymond?' 'I believe it was once contradicted in the _Morning Post_ that he was engaged to her,' said Sir Charles. 'But I'm sure there's no truth in it. I know her.' 'No truth in the report? Or the contradiction?' 'In either. In anything.' 'So you know her. What's she like?' Hyacinth asked anxiously. 'Oh, a dear, charming creature--you'd like her; but not pretty, nor young. About my age,' he said. 'Oh, I see! _That's_ all right, then!' She clapped her hands. 'Well, I must go. I'll arrange to turn up to dinner tomorrow.' He took his hat, looking rather depressed. 'And try to make him like me!' she commanded, as Sir Charles took leave. CHAPTER IV The Sound Sense of Lady Cannon Lady Cannon had never been seen after half-past seven except in evening dress, generally a velvet dress of some dark crimson or bottle-green, so tightly-fitting as to give her an appearance of being rather upholstered than clothed. Her cloaks were always like well-hung curtains, her trains like heavy carpets; one might fancy that she got her gowns from Gillows. Her pearl dog-collar, her diamond ear-rings, her dark red fringe and the other details of her toilette were put on with the same precision when she dined alone with Sir Charles as if she were going to a ceremonious reception. She was a very tall, fine-looking woman. In Paris, where she sometimes went to see Ella at school, she attracted much public attention as _une femme superbe_. Frenchmen were heard to remark to one another that her husband _ne devrait pas s'embeter_ (which, as a matter of fact, was precisely what he did--to extinction); and even in the streets when she walked out the gamins used to exclaim, '_Voila l'Arc de Triomphe qui se promene!_'--to her intense fury and gratification. She was still handsome, with hard, wide-open blue eyes, and straight features. She always held her head as if she were being photographed in a tiara _en profil perdu_. It was in this attitude that she had often been photographed and was now most usually seen; and it seemed so characteristic that even her husband, if he accidentally caught a glimpse of her full-face, hastily altered his position to one whence he could behold her at right angles.