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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
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