There, to aggravate her still further, was that Lalla Paske opposite, sitting between Sir Gloster and Captain Waring, and ogling and carrying on. Little reptile! she would like to throw a plate at her. Honor was on Sir Gloster’s other hand, looking, as her aunt mentally noted, very “distangay” and animated. The baronet seemed to be greatly struck, and talked away incessantly; and this was the one miserable crumb of comfort on which the poor lady dined! Honor was not too engrossed with her own affairs not to notice that her aunt appeared most dreadfully put out about something, and was looking exceedingly flushed and angry. In fact, Miss Paske--good-natured, kind little soul--leant over, and said to her, “Have you noticed Mrs. Brande? Does she not look extraordinary? Her face is so red, and swelled up, I really believe she is going to have a fit of some sort! She is neither eating nor speaking.” However, during dessert Mrs. Brande found her tongue. There was a general discussion on the subject of Christian names, and some one said that “Honor was a nice old-fashioned one.” “Oh,” cried Lalla, “I think it hideous! You don’t mind, do you, Miss Gordon? How angry I should have been if my godfathers and godmothers had given it to _me_! It has such an abrupt sound, and is so _very_ goody-goody.” Mrs. Brande, who had hitherto refused to talk to her neighbour, even in the most ordinary way, to discuss the weather, the great diamond case, or the state of the rupee, now suddenly burst out-- “Anyway, it has a decent meaning; and if it is goody-goody, yours is _not_. I believe there was once a Miss Rooke, who had the same name, and was fond of play-acting and singing, and by all accounts _no_ great shakes.” In just alarm, Mrs. Loyd made a hasty signal, and the ladies arose as if worked by one spring, and departed into the drawing-room in a body. Mrs. Brande immediately seated herself in a large armchair, where she sat aloof and alone, looking stern and unapproachable, as she slowly turned over an album of photographs. The book was upside down, but this was evidently immaterial. Vainly did Mrs. Loyd come and stand before her, and abase herself; vainly did she endeavour to propitiate her. Poor deluded little woman!--it was mere waste of time and breath to praise Mrs. Brande’s dress, Mrs. Brande’s niece, or even to beg for a recipe for chutney. “I can give you a recipe for _manners_,” observed the outraged matron, in an awful tone; “I will send you the table of precedence, and I will _write_ to you to-morrow.” On hearing this terrible threat, Mrs. Loyd’s blood ran cold,--for she was a woman of peace,--and at this juncture the men appeared slouching in by twos and threes--as is their wont. They discovered the ladies scattered in couples about the room, all save one, who sat in solitary majesty.