The "Lady of the Lake" was read through. Mrs. Barclay had hoped to draw on some historical inquiries by means of it; but before she could find a chance, Lois took up Greville's Memoirs. This she read to herself; and not many pages, before she came with the book and a puzzled face to Mrs. Barclay's room. Mrs. Barclay was, we may say, a fisher lying in wait for a bite; now she saw she had got one; the thing was to haul in the line warily and skilfully. She broke up a piece of coal on the fire, and gave her visitor an easy-chair.
"Sit there, my dear. I am very glad of your company. What have you in your hand? Greville?"
"Yes. I want to ask you about some things. Am I not disturbing you?"
"Most agreeably. I can have nothing better to do than to talk with you.
What is the question?"
"There are several questions. It seems to me a very strange book!"
"Perhaps it is. But why do you say so?"
"Perhaps I should rather say that the people are strange. Is this what the highest society in England is like?"
"In what particulars, do you mean?"
"Why, I think Shampuashuh is better. I am sure Shampuashuh would be ashamed of such doings."
"What are you thinking of?" Mrs. Barclay asked, carefully repressing a smile.