head by miss Kennedy’s head, over the crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel.

Is that her? asked miss Kennedy.

Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil.

Exquisite contrast, miss Kennedy said.

When all agog miss Douce said eagerly:

Look at the fellow in the tall silk.

Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly.

In the second carriage, miss Douce’s wet lips said, laughing in the sun.

He’s looking. Mind till I see.

She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face