THE SILVER FOX 11 



difficulty in talking to intellectual people 

 like Mr. Wilfred GLasgow. 



A light and stinging wind blew along the 

 ice, powdering the surface with infinitely 

 delicate particles of snow. The graceful 

 lawns and slopes of Hurlingham stared in 

 blank whiteness, the evergreens stood out 

 unnaturally dark and trim in the colourless 

 monotony ; beyond the scrape and hiss of 

 the skates the silence was extraordinary. 

 Slaney did not enjoy herself. The south- 

 west of Ireland is not the climate in which 

 to learn skating ; she toiled up against the 

 wind with aching ankles, she drifted back in 

 front of it, and finally, in bitter resentment 

 of her ungainly helplessness, achieved the 

 haven of a chair. Lady Susan swung and 

 circled, and knew that her colour was rising 

 in a manner more becoming than the best 

 rouge that money could buy; Major Bun- 

 bury swung assiduously after her. Hugh 

 was cutting intricate figures far away. 

 Slaney began thinking of the gaunt after- 

 noon service in progress at that moment in 



