Kingston looked at her with the approval that her appearance never failed to challenge. A crystalline perfection always hung about her, a clear, precise faultlessness that was always cool and fresh and pleasant. Age could do nothing against her. This morning, as for a thousand mornings past, as she would be for a thousand mornings to come, she was tranquil, exquisite, satisfactory. If she did not actually sparkle, she was always in a serene glow of elegance, her clear golden hair unalterably waved and curled, her garments refreshing in their unobtrusive charm of cut and make, her hands well-kept, white, delightful, flickering here and there from tea-caddy to cream-jug with a charming, housewifely preoccupation. Kingston, with a vivid recollection of the sibylline untidiness that haunted spiritualistic circles, brought a new appreciation to bear on Gundred’s unchangeably well-bred calm of look and dress and manner. She was very restful to be with. Pure milk, after all, certainly was better, in the long run, than intoxicants. ‘Thanks, dear,’ he replied, accepting a cup of tea into which Gundred had dutifully poured the cream that he still hated as much as ever, but which twenty years’ experience of her immitigable firmness had taught him to accept without vain murmurings. ‘I think I will run down and see Jim one of these days. You come with me?’ ‘Well,’ replied his wife, ‘I have such a terrible lot to crowd into these last few days before we leave town. The end of the Season is such a rush, and one does dislike to leave anything undone. Besides, you know, I think it is a pity to unsettle Jim, and I really do rather dread the motor at this time of year. The dust is too truly horrible. Nothing can keep it out of one’s hair, try as one will; and then poor Morgan has such trouble getting it out again; and one ought always to consider the servants when one can--yes?’ ‘Very well, then; I will go down alone, to-day or to-morrow. Haven’t you got some sort of show on here this afternoon?’ ‘Yes, dear, a Mothers’ Educational Union Meeting. They wanted to hold it here, and one feels that one should do what one can for others while one is alive.’ ‘Well, I don’t suppose I shall be missed or mourned,’ said her husband; ‘so I shall just slip quietly off, and take the motor down to Eton. You can receive the mothers, and so on, without me to help you. And I can have a good time with Jim.’