I must be on my way to Adela Sellingworth's."

"May I walk with you as far as her door?"

"Of course."

When they were out in Piccadilly he said:

"And now what about my promise to Mr. Craven?"

"I shall be delighted to meet him again," said Miss Van Tuyn in a
careless voice. "And I would not have you break a promise on my account.
Such a sacred thing!"

"But if he bores you--"

"He doesn't bore me more than many young men do."

"Then I will let you know. We might have a theatre party."

"Anything you like. And why not ask Adela Sellingworth to make a
fourth?"

This suggestion was not at all to Braybrooke's liking, but he scarcely
knew what to say in answer to it. Really, it seemed as if this afternoon
was to end as it had begun--in a contretemps.

"I am so fond of her," continued Miss Van Tuyn. "And I'm sure she would
enjoy it."

"But she so seldom goes out."

"All the more reason to try to persuade her out of her shell. I believe
she will come if you tell her I and Mr. Craven make up the rest of the
party. We all got on so well together in Soho."

"I will certainly ask her," said Braybrooke.

What else could he say?

At the corner of Berkeley Square Miss Van Tuyn stopped and rather
resolutely bade him good-bye.

When Braybrooke was alone he felt almost tired out. If he had been an
Italian he would probably have believed that someone had looked on him
that day with the evil eye. He feared that he had been almost maladroit.
His social self-confidence was severely shaken. And yet he had only
meant well; he had only been trying to do what he considered his duty.
It had all begun with Miss Cronin's preposterous mistake. That had
thoroughly upset him, and from that moment he had not been in possession
of his normal means. And now he was let in for a party combining
Adela Sellingworth with Miss Van Tuyn and Craven. It was singularly
unfortunate. But probably Lady Sellingworth would refuse the invitation
he now had to send her. She really went out very seldom. He could only
hope for a refusal. That, too, was tragic. He could not remember ever
before having actively wished that an invitation of his should be
declined.

He was so reduced in self-confidence and spirits that he turned into the
St. James's Club, sank down alone in a remote corner, and called for
a dry Martini, although he knew quite well that it would set up
fermentation.

PART FOUR

CHAPTER I

Lady Sellingworth was "not at