ladyship was seeing anyone and
must find out. He went away to do so, and returned with an affirmative
answer.

When Braybrooke came into the big drawing-room on the first floor he
fancied that his friend was looking older, and even paler, than usual.
As he took her hand he thought, "Can I be right? Is it possible that
Craven can imagine himself in love with her?"

It was an uncomplimentary thought, and he tried to put it from him as
singularly unsuitable, and indeed almost outrageous at this moment,
but it would not go. It defied him and stuck firmly in his mind. In his
opinion Adela Sellingworth was the most truly distinguished woman in
London. But that she should attract a young man, almost indeed a boy, in
_that_ way! It did really seem utterly impossible.

In answer to his inquiry, Lady Sellingworth acknowledged that she had
not been feeling very well during the last two days.

"Perhaps you have been doing too much?" he suggested.

The mocking look came into her eyes.

"But what do I ever do now?" she said. "I lie quietly on my shelf. That
surely can't be very exhausting."

"No one would ever connect you with being laid on the shelf," said
Braybrooke; "your personality forbids that. Besides, I hear that you
have been having quite a lively time."

He paused--it was his conception of the pause dramatic--then added:

"At the foot of a volcano!"

"Ah! you have heard about Vesuvius!"

"Yes."

"What a marvellous gatherer of news you are! Beryl Van Tuyn?"

"No. I happened to meet young Craven at the St. James's Club, and he
told me of your excursion into Bohemia."

"Bohemia!" she said. "I haven't set foot in that entertaining country
since I gave up my apartment in Paris. Soho is beyond its borders. But I
confess to Soho. Beryl persuaded me, and I really quite enjoyed it. The
coffee was delicious, and the hairdressers put their souls into their
guitars. But I doubt if I shall go there again."

"It tired you? The atmosphere in those places is so mephitic."

"Oh, I didn't mind that. Besides, we blew it away by walking home, at
least part of the way home."

"Down Shaftesbury Avenue? That was surely rather dangerous."

"Dangerous! Why?"

"The sudden change from stuffiness to cold and damp. Craven spoke
of Toscanas. And those cheap restaurants are so very small and badly
ventilated."

"Oh, we enjoyed our walk."

"That's good. Craven was quite enthusiastic about the evening."

Again the pause dramat