'Honolulu--yes. I was thinking of Queensland. There's no barbarism at Honolulu, if you keep out of sight of the Americans and Europeans. Yes, I enjoyed myself there. I think I could go back and live out my life at Waikiki.' 'It astonished me that you didn't make an effort to go with Hugh to that great volcano. I have read about it since, and I'm sure I should have faced anything.' 'Kilauea,' murmured Sibyl, with a dreamy air, as she raised the wine-glass to her lips. 'I was lazy, no doubt. The climate, you know; and then I don't care much about bubbling lava. It was much nicer to watch the gold-fish at Waikiki.--Where is your husband today?' 'Of all things in the world, gone to Lord's! He says he never saw a cricket match in his life, and it struck him this morning that it really was a defect in his education. Of course, he was thinking of Hughie. He wants Hughie to be a cricketer and horseman and everything that's robust.' 'Just like Hugh,' replied Sibyl, laughing. 'I should feel the same if I had a boy. I like open-air men--though I shouldn't care always to live among them.' 'Hugh at Coventry still?' Alma inquired. Her hostess gave a nod, with a look intimating that she would say more when the servant left them free to talk. She added---- 'Do you know Mrs. Strangeways?' 'I seem to remember a Mr. Strangeways,' replied Alma, 'but I can't think how or where.' 'Yes, he's a man who goes about a good deal. His wife was the widow of that artist who promised so well, and got into a scrape, and died miserably--Edward--no, Egbert Dover. Don't you know that big landscape that hangs in Mrs. Holt's boudoir?--that was one of his. He hid himself away, and died in a garret or a workhouse--something cheerful. I met Mrs. Strangeways at Brisbane; she and her husband were globe-trotting. She might look in this afternoon. I don't know whether you would care for her; she's rather--rapid, you know. But she remembers hearing you play somewhere--spoke of you with great admiration.' Alma's eyes shone. 'Oh, I should be glad to meet her! Are you going to let me stay with you all the afternoon, then?' 'If you have nothing better to do. I suppose I shall be losing you presently. I'm very sorry. I wish you lived in London.' 'On this one account,' replied Alma, 'I wish I did. But I've got so out of it. Don't you think I carry a rustic atmosphere about with me?' Sibyl laughed, in the tone her friend wished to hear. Alma would have been profoundly mortified if Mrs. Carnaby had seemed ever so little to agree with her.