Her own People by B. M. Croker

Many months had elapsed since Malcolm Haig bartered his heart in exchange for a photograph; he was once more resigned to the monotonous round of regimental duty in an Indian cantonment, had purchased a promising pony, who ran at small meetings under the mysterious initial of "V. C. " -- a "V. C. " who was gradually absorbing the interest once given to her namesake, and, to tell the plain unvarnished truth, the memory of a certain dazzling princess had become a little dim!

Madame de Godez and Verona were in England. They had no occasion now to dread the Dover Custom House, for Dog Darling was defunct. His death had been a genuine grief to his mistress, who looked as if she too would soon cross the frontier of an unknown land. The old lady was changed, a life of uninterrupted self-indulgence had begun to tell at last. There were deep lines in her face, and pouches under her eyes, her breath was scanty and her spirits were low.