On _Noe_ and _Lot_ nights it's correct to carry a little darling Old Testament, bound in velvet or satin to match or contrast with one's toilette, and generally with jewels on the cover; and the Old Testament is quite often mentioned at dinner just now, people pretending they've been reading it, and so on. _A propos_, Mrs. Golding-Newman, one of the latest climbers, excused herself for being late at dinner somewhere the other night by saying, "I was reading Deuteronomy and didn't notice how the time was going." The Bullyon-Boundermere woman was present and, determined to trump her rival's trick, chipped in with, "Oh, _isn't_ Deuteronomy _charming_? But I think of _all_ the books of the Old Testament my favourite is In Memoriam!" The Cloak, my Daphne, which is one of the most interesting arrivals in town this summer, is, _a mon avis_, something quite _more_ than a garment--it is a great big test of all that a woman most prides herself on! You may see a thousand women with cloaks on, but how many will be _really wearing_ them! As one criticised the cloaks and their wearers in the Enclosure at Aswood one couldn't help murmuring with a small sigh, "Who is sufficient for these things!" People who have the cloak fastened on _in just any way_, my dear, are simply begging the question; in its true inwardness, in its loftiest development, the cloak should be a separate creation, kept in its place only by the grace and knack of its wearer. There should be _character_ about it, a fascinating droop, a sweat crookedness that can only happen when it is worn with the art that--you know the rest. Shall I confide to you my little secret, dearest? Would you know why it is given to your Blanche to be easily best of the few women who do really _wear_ the cloak? When I'm ready, all but nay cloak, I run away from Yvonne down the stairs; she follows, carrying the cloak, and when she's beginning to overtake me she throws the cloak and I catch it on my shoulders. Result--I'm the envy and despair of all my best beloved enemies! People have been trying to find new places to wear their watches. A small watch on the toe of each shoe (plain for day wear, jewelled for the evening) had quite a little vogue, though as watches they were no good, for no one could see the time by them. Then little teeny watches on the tips of glove-fingers were liked a little. But the latest development is that Time is _demode_, and anyone mentioning hours and half-hours is stamped as an outside person.