There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. Her aunt went off at a tangent. " "You're not come here to insult me, Mr. Montague Hill.
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