“Imagine! Annette’s only two years older than me; it must be awful for her, married to Uncle Soames.”

Aunt Juley lifted her hands in horror.

“My dear,” she said, “you don’t know what you’re talking about. Your Uncle Soames is a match for anybody. He’s a very clever man, and good-looking and wealthy, and most considerate and careful, and not at all old, considering everything.”

Imogen, turning her luscious glance from one to the other of the “old dears,” only smiled.

“I hope,” said Aunt Juley quite severely, “that you will marry as good a man.”

“ I shan’t marry a good man, Auntie,” murmured Imogen; “they’re dull.”