"What is she like, my dear? Is she nice?" "I should say that word describes her exactly; my remembrance of her is that she is much too nice; to be sincere, she always said, 'Dear thing!' and got rid of us as soon as possible." "She may not have liked children," observed Lady Lyons, lucidly. "Possibly," but Grace did not think that she was much fonder of grown-up people. She and Margaret had always unfavourably contrasted Lady Penryn's neglect and Sir Jacob's heartiness. "Gratitude about her son," began Lady Lyons, "that must have been there at any rate." "Oh! the poor man father knew so well was not her son. She has no son. There were two or three by a first wife; this girl is not her daughter." When Grace and Lady Lyons arrived in Cromwell Road they found the whole place crowded with people, mostly elderly; a few girls, and the men might be counted on their fingers. Papers were handed to them, and Grace with much amusement found that the meeting was convened about woman's suffrage. Lady Penryn in a rich crimson velvet was very cordial in her reception of both Lady Lyons and Grace, advised them to sit on the right, said they would find plenty of friends, and turned her back upon them to receive somebody else. Miss Penryn was not there, or, if there, Grace could not see her. For upwards of two hours they sat in a room which in spite of open windows was stifling, seated on very small cane chairs, and hearing speeches from men and women more or less celebrated, upon a subject they neither of them took the faintest interest in. No question of the day ever interested Grace. Lady Lyons never understood the question, and the injustice of women who have large control of money, and who contribute largely to the revenue in many ways and yet cannot give a vote, did not give her a pang. She knew that some women had made the subject ridiculous; she was afraid of ridicule, and she did not take the trouble of disentangling the question from the absurdities reared round it, and judging it on its own merits. "I don't like being here at all," whispered Lady Lyons; "I am so afraid of being taken for a strong-minded woman." "Pray do not be afraid of that," said Grace, satirically; "that is the very last thing your worst enemy would accuse you of." The meeting dragged on, and the heat became quite suffocating. All at once Grace gave a little cry, and threw herself back, closing her eyes. "A lady fainting! Air! Water! Salts! Salvolatile!" shouted dozens of voices at once. Grace, still with closed eyes, was carried out of the room, where Lady Lyons gladly remained with her, in a small back room, consecrated to Lady Penryn's writings. When the meeting dispersed she came in to see how Grace was, and was overwhelming in her affectionate attentions. "Poor dear thing," she said. "The heat was very great," said Lady Lyons, apologetically.