dela Sellingworth to the _Bella Napoli_."

And as she remembered this she felt more definitely injured. For she had
taken a good deal of trouble to persuade Lady Sellingworth to dine out
in Soho, had taken trouble about the food and about the music, had, in
fact, done everything that was possible to make the evening entertaining
and delightful to her friend. It was even she, by the way, who had
beckoned Craven to their table and had asked him to join them after
dinner.

And in return for all this Adela Sellingworth had carried him off, and
perhaps to-night was dining with him alone at the _Bella Napoli_!

"These old beauties are always the most unscrupulous women in the
world," thought Miss Van Tuyn, as she came into Berkeley Square. "They
never know when to stop. They are never satisfied. It's bad enough to be
with a greedy child, but it's really horrible to have much to do with a
greedy old person. I should never have thought that Adela Sellingworth
was like this."

It did not occur to her that perhaps some day she would be an old beauty
herself, and even then would perhaps still want a few pleasures and joys
to make life endurable to her.

In passing through Berkeley Square she deliberately walked on the left
side of it, and presently came to the house where Lady Sellingworth
lived. The big mansion was dark. As Miss Van Tuyn went by it she felt
an access of ill-humour, and for an instant she knew something of
the feeling which had often come to its owner--the feeling of being
abandoned to loneliness in the midst of a city which held multitudes who
were having a good time.

She walked on towards Berkeley, thought of Piccadilly, retraced her
steps, turned up Hay Hill, crossed Bond Street, and eventually came into
Regent Street. There were a good many people here, and several loitering
men looked hard at her. But she walked composedly on, keeping at an even
steady pace. At the main door of the Cafe Royal three or four men were
lounging. She did not look at them as she went by. But presently she
felt that she was being followed. This did not disturb her. She often
went out alone in Paris on foot, though not at night, and was accustomed
to being followed. She knew perfectly well how to deal with impertinent
men. In Shaftesbury Avenue the man who was dogging her footsteps came
nearer, and presently, though she did not turn her head, she knew that
he was walking almost level with her, and that his eyes were fixed
ste