acquaintance was unique. When difficulties and contentions arose, the parties' instinctive impulse was to endeavour to invest her interest. "Tanagra is so sensible," outraged parenthood would exclaim; "Tan's such a sport. She'll understand," cried rebellious youth. People not only asked Lady Tanagra's advice, but took it. The secret of her success, unknown to herself, was her knowledge of human nature. Even those against whom she gave her decisions bore her no ill-will.
Her manner towards Miss Brent was a mixture of laughter and seriousness, with deft little touches of deference.
"I've come to apologize for everybody and everything, Miss Brent," she cried; "but in particular for myself." Lady Tanagra chatted on gaily, "sparring for an opening," Elton called it.
"You mustn't blame Patricia," she bubbled in her soft musical voice, "it's all Peter's fault, and where it's not his fault it's mine," she proceeded illogically. "You won't be hard on us, will you?" She looked up at Miss Brent with the demureness of a child expecting severe rebuke for some naughtiness.
Miss Brent's eyes narrowed and the firm line of her lips widened. Patricia recognised this as the outward evidences of a smile.
"I confess, I am greatly puzzled," began Miss Brent.
"Of course you must be," continued Lady Tanagra, "and if you were not so kind you would
