site, sparkling face, her laughter, and that mane of fine golden hair that people in the streets too often turned to stare at. . . . He meant to help her, he had come to help her—but how to go about it? That he must leave to the inspiration of the moment.
When she returned, handsomely furred and too youthfully hatted, he gave her another kindly kiss to encourage her—for he could see that she was really moved—and took her arm as they went to the door. An old woman in another salon across the hall had observed their movements with the keenest interest. She carried an ear trumpet, but thanked Heaven that her eyes were as good as ever. Good enough to distinguish the paint on that woman's cheeks—which had not prevented Mr. Gregory from kissing her. Lady Gregory's only son! She knew he had married the youngest daughter of old Admiral Broughton, a great friend of the late King's. He had once been heard to say to him at a garden party—it must have been in 1907— There, they are getting into a cab together. He has taken her hand—off they go! Dear, dear! How very distressing! Poor Lady Gregory, and poor neglected wife! It wasn't as if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. And she hadn't lived in this wicked
