"I hardly know. She seemed wonderfully calm; but as we left almost immediately after the accident I had not much opportunity of judging." "A sad business. A lovely woman married to a man she does not care for--and really if I were not a visitor under his roof I should be tempted to say that in my opinion no woman in her senses could care for Mr. Tregonell. But I suppose after all practical considerations had something to do with the match. Tregonell is lord of half-a-dozen manors--and the lady hadn't a sixpence. Was that it?" "Not at all. Mrs. Tregonell has money in her own right. She was the only child of an Indian judge, and her mother was co-heiress with the late Mrs. Tregonell, who was a Miss Champernowne--I believe she has at least fifteen hundred a year, upon which a single woman might live very comfortably, don't you know," concluded Miss Vandeleur with a grand air. "No doubt," said the Baron. "And the fortune was settled on herself, I conclude?" "Every shilling. Mr. Tregonell's mother insisted upon that. No doubt she felt it her duty to protect her niece's interest. Mr. Tregonell has complained to Jack of his wife being so independent. It lessens his hold upon her, don't you see." "Naturally. She is not under any obligation to him for her milliner's bills." "No. And her bills must be awfully heavy this year. I never saw such a change in any one. Last autumn she dressed so simply. A tailor-gown in the morning--black velvet or satin in the evening. And now there is no end to the variety of her gowns. It makes one feel awfully shabby." "Such artistic toilets as yours can never be shabby," said the Baron. "In looking at a picture by Greuze one does not think how much a yard the pale indefinite drapery cost, one only sees the grace and beauty of the draping." "True; taste will go a long way," assented Mopsy, who had been trying for the last ten years to make taste--that is to say a careful study of the west-end shop-windows--do duty for cash. "Then you find Mrs. Tregonell changed since your last visit?" inquired de Cazalet, bent upon learning all he could. "Remarkably. She is so much livelier--she seems so much more anxious to please. It is a change altogether for the better. She seems gayer--brighter--happier." "Yes," thought the Baron, "she is in love. Only one magician works such wonders, and he is the oldest of the gods--the motive power of the universe." The gong sounded, and they went off to lunch. At the foot of the stairs they met Christabel bringing down her boy. She was not so devoted to him as she had been last year, but there were occasions--like this wet morning, for instance--when she gave herself up to his society. "Leo is going to eat his dinner with us," she said, smiling at the Baron, "if you will not think him a nuisance." "On the contrary, I shall be charmed to improve his acquaintance. I hope he will let me sit next him." "Thant," lisped Leo decisively. "Don't like oo." "Oh, Leo, how rude."