You have no fear of falling into them yourself."
She rippled a low laugh of satisfaction. And, having tamed her lion, she
now suggested it was time to go in to luncheon.
CHAPTER XII
Arabella Clinker took Sunday afternoons generally to write a long letter
to her mother, and Good Friday seemed almost a Sunday, so she went up to
her room from force of habit. But first she looked up some facts in the
countless books of reference she kept always by her. Mrs. Cricklander
had skated over some very thin ice at luncheon upon a classical subject,
when talking to the distinguished Mr. Derringham, and she must be warned
and primed up before dinner. Arabella had herself averted a catastrophe
and dexterously turned the conversation in the nick of time. Mrs.
Cricklander had a peculiarly unclassical brain, and found learning
statistics about ancient philosophies and the names of mythological
personages the most difficult of all. Fortunately in these days, even
among the most polished, this special branch of cultivation was rather
old-fashioned, Miss Clinker reflected, but still, as Mr.
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