It was a run of a mere twenty miles from “Maid’s Retreat” to Goodwood, and, although Mrs. Gertstein was half-an-hour behind the time she had fixed for her departure her car, in the skilled hands of an immaculate chauffeur, easily made the distance in time for her to join the group of acquaintances with whom she had arranged to lunch.

There is no more beautiful racecourse in the world than this arena set in the wooded Sussex hills. On a perfect July day, with its sense of spaciousness, of movement, and colour it may woo the most gloomy of mortals to a sense of rapturous delight in life. The more particularly will it affect a woman, if she is conscious that all the gay and elaborate display of summer “creations” worn by others of her sex only emphasise the triumph of her own dressmaker. Adèle Gertstein felt that both in herself and her frock she held her own among the fairest of the aristocracy and plutocracy of Britain.