The Albert Hall Mansions were only a stone's throw from Uncle Brian's house, so I considered myself safe from any remonstrance on Aunt Philippa's part. I liked to go there in the soft, early dusk; the smooth noiseless ascent of the lift, and the lighted floors that we passed, gave one an odd, dreamy feeling. Mrs. Fullerton had a handsome suite of apartments on the third floor, and there was a beautiful view from her drawing-room window of the Park and the Albert Memorial. It was a nice, cheerful situation, and Mrs. Fullerton, who liked gaiety, preferred it to Rutherford Lodge, though Lesbia had been born there and she had passed her happiest days in it. I found Mrs. Fullerton alone, but she seemed very friendly, and was evidently glad to see me. I suppose I was better company than her own thoughts. I liked Mrs. Fullerton, after a temperate fashion. She was a nice little woman, and would have been nicer still if she had talked less and thought more. But when one's words lie at the tip of one's tongue there is little time for reflection, and there are sure to be tares among the wheat. She was looking serious this evening, but that did not interfere with her comeliness or her pleasant manners. I found her warmth gratifying, and prepared to unbend more than usual. 'Sit down, my dear. No, not on that chair: take the easy one by the fire. You are looking rather fagged, Ursula. It seems to be the fashion with young people now: they get middle-aged before their time. Oh yes, Lesbia is out. It is the Engleharts' "At Home," and she promised to go with Mrs. Pierrepoint. But she will be back soon. Now we are alone, I want to ask you a question. I am rather anxious about Lesbia. Dr. Pratt says there is a want of tone about her. She is too thin, and her appetite is not good. The child gets prettier every day, but she looks far too delicate.' I could not deny this. Lesbia certainly looked far from strong, and then she took cold so easily. I hinted that perhaps late hours and so much visiting (for the Fullertons had an immense circle of acquaintances, with possibly half a dozen friends among them) might be bad for her. Mrs. Fullerton looked rather mournful at this. 'I hope you have not put that in her head,' she returned uneasily. 'All yesterday she was begging me to give up the place and go back to Rutherford Lodge. Major Parkhurst is going to India in February, and so the house will be on our hands.' 'I think the change will be good for Lesbia. It is such a pretty place, and she was always so fond of it.' 'Oh, it is pretty enough,' with a discontented air; 'but life in a village is a very tame affair. There are not more than four families in the whole place whom we can visit, and when we want a little gaiety we have to drive into Pinkerton.' 'I think it would be good for Lesbia's health, Mrs. Fullerton.'