a time but that now was
being coaxed into bright burning, told her that there could be only one
reason. Why is a handsome young man interested in a woman whom he
does not know and has only met casually in the street? The mysterious
attraction of sex supplied, Lady Sellingworth thought, the only possible
answer. She had not been able to attract Rupert Louth, but she attracted
this man, strongly, romantically, perhaps. The knowledge--for it seemed
like knowledge, though it was really only surmise--warmed her whole
nature. She felt again the delicious conquering sensation which she had
lost. She emerged out of humiliation. Her vivacity grew as the lunch
progressed. Suddenly she felt good-looking, fascinating, even brilliant.
The horrible dreariness of life had departed from her, driven away by
the look in a stranger's eyes.

Towards the end of lunch the woman on Sir Seymour's other side said to
him:

"Do you know who that man is--the young man opposite to that funny South
American-looking old woman with the black wig?"

Sir Seymour looked for a moment at the brown man with his cool, direct,
summing-up, soldier's eyes.

"No," he answered. "I've never set eyes on him before."

"I think he is the best-looking man I have ever seen," said the woman.

"No doubt--very good-looking, very good-looking!" said her host; "but on
the wrong side of the line, I should say."

"The wrong side of the line? What do you mean?"

"The shady side," said Sir Seymour.

And then he turned to speak to Lady Sellingworth.

She had overheard the conversation, and felt suddenly angry with him.
But she concealed her vexation and merely said to herself that men are
as jealous of each other as women are jealous, that a man cannot bear
to hear another man praised by a woman. Possibly--she was not sure of
this--possibly Sir Seymour had noticed that she was interested in the
stranger. He was very sharp in all matters connected with her. His
affection increased his natural acuteness. She resolved to be very
careful, even very deceptive. And she said:

"Isn't it odd how good looks, good manners and perfect clothes, even
combined with charm, cannot conceal the fact that a man is an outsider?"

"Ah, you agree with me!" Sir Seymour said, looking suddenly pleased.
"That's good! Men and women are seldom at one on such matters."

Lady Sellingworth shot a glance at the man discussed and felt absurdly
like a traitor.

Soon afterwards Sir Seymour's lun