So he came, in obedience to Lady Evenswood's summons, very confident but rather sombre. When he arrived, a woman was there whom he did not know. She exhaled fashion and the air of being exactly the right thing. She was young--several years short of forty--and very handsome. Her manner was quiet and well-dowered with repressed humor. He was introduced to Lady Flora Disney, and found himself regarded with unmistakable interest and lurking amusement. It was no effort to remember that Mr Disney had married a daughter of Lord Bewdley's. That was enough; just as he knew all about her, she would know all about him; they were both of the pale in a sense that their hostess was, but Lord Southend--well, hardly was--and (absurdly enough) Mr Disney himself not at all. This again was in patent incongruity with Blinkhampton and smelt wofully strong of Blent. Lady Evenswood encouraged Harry to converse with the visitor. "We're a little quieter," she was saying. "The crisis is dormant, and the bishop's made, and Lord Hove has gone to consult the Duke of Dexminster--which means a fortnight's delay anyhow, and probably being told to do nothing in the end. So I sometimes see Robert at dinner." "And he tells you things, and you're indiscreet about them!" said Lady Evenswood rebukingly. "I believe Robert considers me a sort of ante-room to publicity. And it's so much easier to disown a wife than a journalist, isn't it, Mr Tristram?" "Naturally. The Press have to pretend to believe one another," he said, smiling. "That's the corner-stone," Southend agreed. "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" pursued Lady Flora. "But Diana was never a wife, if I remember." "Though how they do it, my dear," marvelled Lady Evenswood, "is what I don't understand." "I know nothing about them," Lady Flora declared. "And they know nothing about me. They stop at my gowns, you know, and even then they always confuse me with Gertrude Melrose." "I hope that stops at the gown too?" observed Southend. "The hair does it, I think. She buys hers at the same shop as I--Now what do I do, Mr Tristram?" "You, Lady Flora? You know the shop. Is that enough?" "Yes, or--well, no. I supplement there. I declare I won't wait any longer for Robert." "He won't come now," said Lady Evenswood. "Is the bishop nice, my dear?" "Oh, yes, quite plump and gaitery! Good-by, dear Cousin Sylvia. I wish you'd come and see me, Mr Tristram." Harry, making his little bow, declared that he would be delighted. "I like to see young men sometimes," observed the lady, retreating. "The new style," Lady Evenswood summed up, as the door closed. "And--well, I suppose Robert likes it." "_Dissimilia dissimilibus_," shrugged Southend, fixing his glasses. "It's the only concession to appearances he ever made," sighed Lady Evenswood. "She's a lady, though." "Oh, yes. That's what makes it so funny. If she weren't----" "Yes, it would all be natural enough." "But we've been wasting your time, Mr Tristram."