"I don't quite understand," said Lord Parham. "To what do you allude, Lady Kitty?"
Kitty laughed. She raised her eyes to the Rector, a spare High Churchman, who had retreated uncomfortably behind Lady Tranmore.
"Some one—said to me last week—that Lady Parham had saved the Church!"
The Prime Minister rose. "I must have a little exercise before dinner. Your gardens, Ashe—is there time?"
Ashe, scarlet with discomfort and annoyance, carried his visitor off. As he did so, he passed his wife. Kitty turned her little head, looked at him half shyly, half defiantly. The Dean saw the look; saw also that Ashe deliberately avoided it.
The party presently began to disperse. The Dean found himself beside his hostess—strolling over the lawn towards the house. He observed her attentively—vexed with her, and vexed for her! Surely she was thinner than he had ever seen her. A little more, and her beauty would suffer seriously. Coming he knew not whence, there lit upon him the sudden and painful impression of something undermined, something consumed from within.
"Lady Kitty, do you ever rest?" he asked her, unexpectedly.
"Rest!" she laughed. "Why should I?"
"Because you are wearing yourself out."
She shrugged her shoulders.