Delicately, with neatly-lifted little finger, she raised her cup and sipped. From top to toe she was the fine flower of deportment, and her manner exhaled a mild consciousness of being the perfect model of decorum for the country neighbour on whom she was conferring the honour of a call. The afternoon being brilliantly fine, Lady Adela had wished to take her daughter-in-law to call on some intimate friends of hers, proprietors of a celebrated view, who lived on the other side of the lowland valley that stretched beneath the glen of Ivescar. Gundred was happy in the opportunity of exacting provincial approval, and, against everyone’s wishes, including his own, Kingston had insisted that he and Isabel should join the polite pilgrimage. Accordingly the landau had duly sallied forth with its burden of four, and after more than an hour’s drive through the soft country beneath the hills, had brought them to their destination. Now, on the famous terrace of Blakebank, Gundred sat full in the light of her hostess’s admiration, consuming cakes and tea with her usual crisp yet ethereal daintiness. ‘The lights on the hills!’ cried Mrs. Norreys ecstatically, anxious that Mrs. Darnley should appreciate the full beauty of the prospect. ‘Delightfully pretty,’ replied Gundred, casting a comprehensive glance across the world. ‘One quite envies you, Mrs. Norreys. We have no view like this at Ivescar. A charming place to have tea, out on this terrace. Oh, thank you. How greedy I am!--yes? But this air makes one so famished, and these little cakes of yours, so delightful.’ With a sweet smile Gundred accepted a second cake, and devoted her whole attention to its decent consumption.