gay party in summer toilettes assembled on the ancient bowling-green, now transformed into a modern tennis-lawn.
Mrs. Leithcourt and her husband, a tall, thin, grey-headed, well-dressed man, both came forward to greet us, and after a few introductions I joined a set at tennis. They were a merry crowd. The Leithcourts were entertaining a large house-party, and their hospitality was on a scale quite in keeping with the fine old place they rented.
Tea was served on the lawn by the footmen, and afterwards, being tired of the game, I found myself strolling with Muriel Leithcourt, a bright, dark-eyed girl with tightly-bound hair, and wearing a cotton blouse and flannel tennis skirt.
I apologised for my terribly bad play, explaining that I had no practice out in Italy, whereupon she said —
"I know Italy slightly. I was in Florence and Naples with mother last season."
And then when we began to discuss pictures and sculptures, and the sights of Italy generally, I discerned from her remarks that she had travelled widely; indeed, she told me that both her father and mother were never happier than when moving from place to place in search of variety and distraction. We had entered the huge pannelled hall of the Castle, and had passed up the quaint old stone staircase to the long banquetting hall with its pannelled oak ceiling, which in these modern days had been transformed into a bright, pleasant drawing-room, from the windows of which was
