The time was the height of the London season for 1875; the height of that gay time when the parks, and streets, and shops are full, when pleasure-promoters are busy keeping up a fresh supply of every form of entertainment, when pleasure-seekers are flocking to the garden parties, and strawberry parties, the operas, and theatres, and all other amusements provided for them; when the world-the world at least of Regent Street, and Piccadilly, of Eaton Square, and all Belgravia-looks so rich and prosperous, so full of life and all that makes life enjoyable.