cept alcohol taken in the afternoon. But
this effort failed. He had lived a very long time, much longer than
almost anyone knew; he was intimately familiar with the world, and,
although unyieldingly discreet himself, was well acquainted with its
follies and sins. Life had taught him that practically nothing is
impossible. He had known old men to run--or rather to walk--off with
young girls; he had known old women to be infatuated with mere boys; he
had known well-born women to marry grooms and chauffeurs; a Peer of his
acquaintance had linked himself to a cabman's daughter and stuck to
her; chorus girls of course perpetually married into the Peerage; human
passions--although he could not understand it--ran as wild as the roots
of eucalyptus trees planted high within reach of water. So he could not
rule out as impossible a sudden affection for Adela Sellingworth in
the heart of young Craven. It was really very unfortunate. Feeling
responsible, he thought perhaps he ought to do something discreetly. The
question was--what?

Braybrooke was inclined to be a matchmaker, though he had neglected to
make one match, his own. Thinking things over now, he said to himself
that it was quite time young Craven settled down. He was a very
promising fellow. Eric Learington, of whom he had made some casual
inquiries during the interval between the two parts of the concert at
Queen's Hall, had spoken quite warmly about Craven's abilities, industry
and ambition. No doubt the young man would go far. But he ought to have
a clever wife with some money to help him. A budding diplomatist needs a
wife more than most men. He is destined to do much entertaining. Social
matters are a part of his duty, of his career. A suitable wife was
clearly indicated for young Craven. And it occurred to the world's
governess that as he had apparently done harm unwittingly, or approached
the doing of harm, by introducing Craven to dear Adela Sellingworth, it
was incumbent on him to try to do good, if possible, by now knocking the
harm on the head, of course gently, as a well-bred man does things.

Beryl Van Tuyn came into his mind.

As he had told Craven, he knew her quite well and knew all about her.
She came of an excellent American family in Philadelphia. She was
the only child of parents who could not get on together, and who were
divorced. Both her father and mother had married again. The former lived
in New York in Fifth Avenue; the latter, who was a beau