most of; compensations she had been
thankful for. She had been very patient, and considering what she had
been, very humble. But she had definitely given up the thought of ever
knowing again any intimate personal happiness. That book was closed. In
ten years she had never once tried to open it.

And now, suddenly, without even being definitely conscious of what she
was doing, she had laid her hands on it as if--The change in her, the
abrupt and dangerous change, had surely come about two nights ago. And
she felt now that something peculiar in Craven, rather than something
unusual in herself, had caused it.

Beryl Van Tuyn and she were friends because the girl had professed a
cult for her, had been very charming to her, and, when in London, had
persistently sought her out. Beryl had amused her. She had even been
interested in Beryl because she had noted in her certain traits which
had once been predominant in herself. And how she had understood Beryl's
vanity, Beryl's passion for independence and love of the unconventional!
Although they were so different, of different nations and different
breeds, there was something which made them akin. And she had recognized
it. And, recognizing it, she had sometimes felt a secret pity and even
fear for the girl, thinking of the inevitable fading of that beauty,
of the inevitable exasperation of that vanity with the passing of the
years. The vanity would grow and the beauty would diminish as time went
on. And then, some day, what would Beryl be? For in her vanity there was
already exaggeration. In it she had already reached a stage which had
only been gained by Lady Sellingworth at a much later period in life.
Already she looked in the highways and byways for admiration. She sought
for it even among Italian hairdressers! Some day it would make her
suffer.

Lady Sellingworth had seen young Craven go away from his visit to her
in Beryl's company with perhaps just a touch of half-ironical amusement,
mingled with just a touch of half-wistful longing for the days that
were over and done with. She knew so well that taking possession of
a handsome young man on a first meeting. There was nothing in it but
vanity. She had known and had done that sort of thing when she was a
reigning beauty. Craven had interested and pleased her at once; she
hardly knew why. There was something about him, about his look,
bearing and manner which was sympathetic to her. She had felt a quiet
inclination to k