“At the Hyde Park Hotel—for a couple of weeks. We have not many friends in London.”
“Then I should like to do myself the pleasure of calling on Mrs. Dexter.”
“That is really very kind of you. I am sure she will be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“And now,” said the lady, “we must go and look for our parties. They will think we are lost.”
Lady Foxrock was prompt in calling on Mrs. Dexter. She found her twenty years younger than her husband, and of a much inferior class—a yellow-haired, shallow, over-dressed little person, who was obviously flattered by a visit from her ladyship.
Her ladyship dangled some imposing invitations before her dazzled eyes, and then began to ask cautious questions about New Zealand.
Yes, she was New Zealand born herself, not long married—she had insisted on Joe taking her to England, for a spree like! She wanted to see the world a bit, and society. He had brought her, though all his own folk were dead—and he had no home now.
Had Mrs. Dexter ever heard of a Mrs. Loftus in her part of the world?
Yes, ages ago—she’d almost forgotten the tale.
“Oh, so there was a tale. How very interesting! Has it anything to do with her adopted daughter?”