"And how about that affair at Allacapoodur, when Sir Tristram Belpier made his fellows put their lances under their left arms, and job downwards as they rode over the enemy? That lying down of the Sikhs and firing after the charge was a clever move; but they got it hot that day. And what of Colonel Menkinson's tactics at Bundlebad? was that charge of the light infantry a wise thing or not?" demanded Mr. O'Boyneville. This sort of conversation went on all through the dinner. At first there was some slight reserve in the Major's manner to Lady Cecil's husband; but the ice melted little by little beneath the influence of Indian reminiscences; and before the evening ended, a friendly familiarity had arisen between the two men. The barrister begged that Major Gordon would make a point of visiting Brunswick Square whenever he found himself in London; and the Major responded with a vaguely-polite acknowledgment which committed him to nothing. "You are a kind of relative of my wife's, you know," said Mr. O'Boyneville; "and we ought to know more of each other." * * * * * Very early in March, Mrs. Lobyer's thoroughbred chestnuts and powdered footmen astonished the quiet inhabitants of Bloomsbury, and Cecil found herself seated by her friend's side in the Lady's Mile. Whatever preference she might have had for the dull tranquillity of her own drawing-room she was obliged to forego; for her husband and her friend conspired together in order to force her into the agreeable whirlpool of West-end London. And then she was really attached to Flo. She was really anxious about this frivolous, unstable creature, surrounded by so many temptations, supported by so little moral strength. She was really concerned for the tranquillity of Mrs. Lobyer's life; for Sir Nugent Evershed had taken possession of chambers in St. James's Street, and was to be met very frequently at the new house in Mortimer Gardens; and where Florence Lobyer was concerned, Sir Nugent and danger were associated in the mind of Lady Cecil. In the new Tyburnian mansion all the glories of Pevenshall were repeated on a smaller scale. There were more encaustic tiles, more parqueterie floors, more bronze and or-molu balustrades, more ceilings picked out in gold and colour, more monster Sèvres vases, and tiger-skin rugs. The glittering freshness and brightness of the rooms had an oppressive effect upon the senses of people accustomed to ordinary dwellings.