“You heard that he married?”

“I saw it in the Morning Post.”

“His mother was very indignant, and for three months refused to speak to him. But at last I was able to tell her that an heir was expected; so she made up her mind to swallow her pride, and became reconciled with her daughter-in-law, who is a very nice, sensible woman.”

“Pretty?” asked Grace.

“Not at all, but eminently capable. Already she has made Reggie into quite a decent member of society. Mrs. Bassett has now gone down to Bournemouth, where the young folks have taken a house, to be at hand when the baby appears.”

“It’s reassuring to think that the ancient race of the Barlow-Bassetts will not be extinguished,” murmured Grace, ironically. “I gathered that your young friend was settling down because one day he returned every penny I had—lent him.”

“And what did you do with it?” asked Miss Ley.

Grace flushed and smiled whimsically.

“Well, it happened to reach me just before our wedding-day so I spent it all in a gorgeous pearl pin for Paul. He was simply delighted.”

Mrs. Castillyon got up, and, when she was gone, Miss Ley took a letter that had come before luncheon, but which her guest’s arrival had prevented her from opening. It was from Basil, who had spent the whole winter on Miss Ley’s recommendation in Seville; she opened it curiously, for it was the first time he had written to her since, after the inquest, he left England.