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 mined to enjoy herself thoroughly during this period. In any event she would not go away from this delightful town, the most delightful, she was beginning to feel, that she had ever visited, unless it should so happen that she could persuade him to go too.

She returned to the breakfast-table, collecting the Morning Star on the way and, as she ate the richly flavoured, fresh raspberries, submerged in thick clots of cream from Lou's own Jersey cow, she propped the newspaper up against the coffee urn and read the account, extremely diverting she found it, of last night's entertainment. There was a long passage devoted to a description of her costume, characterized, of course, as "very fin de siècle"; there was a complete report of the address made by the Honourable Judge Porter; there was a long paragraph celebrating the "magnificent art of Clara Barnes, Maple Valley's gifted daughter, who is soon leaving, we understand, for Chicago, to study for Grand Opera"; and there was an interminable list of the notables present, which the Countess scanned meticulously three times before she assured herself that Gareth's name was not included in it.

While Ella was sipping her coffee and munching her crisp, buttered toast and her liver and bacon, Lou came in, appearing rather tired, the Countess thought.

Good morning, Ella, she said. How well you are looking! You must have had a good sleep. It