es for him! Another fiasco would, he was
certain, destroy his nerve and render him quite unfit to retain his
place in society. He pulled himself together, using his will to the
uttermost, and dressed for dinner with a still determination to carry
things through with a high hand. The worst of it was that he had an
uneasy feeling--quite uncalled for, he was sure of that--of being a
false friend. For Lady Sellingworth was his friend. He had known her
for many years, whereas Craven and Beryl Van Tuyn were comparatively
new-comers in his life. And yet he was engaged in something not quite
unlike a conspiracy against this old friend. Craven had said she was
lonely. Perhaps that was true. Women who lived by themselves generally
felt lonelier than men in a like situation. Craven, perhaps, was
bringing a little solace into this lonely life. And now he, Braybrooke,
was endeavouring to make an end of that solace. For he quite understood
that, women being as they are, a strong friendship between Adela
Sellingworth and Craven was quite incompatible with a love affair
between Craven and Beryl Van Tuyn. He hoped he was not a traitor as he
carefully arranged his rather large tie. But anything was better than a
tragedy. And with women of Adela Sellingworth's reputed temperament one
never knew quite what might happen. Her emergence, after ten years, into
Shaftesbury Avenue and Soho had severely shaken Braybrooke's faith in
her sobriety, fostered though it had been, created even, by her ten
years of distinguished retirement. Damped-down fires sometimes blaze
forth unexpectedly and rage with fury. He hoped he was doing the right
thing. Anyhow, it was not his fault that Lady Sellingworth was to be of
his party tonight. Miss Van Tuyn was responsible for that.

He rang the bell, which was answered by his valet.

"Please fetch the theatre ticket, Walter. It is in the drawer of my
writing-table in the library. A box for the Shaftesbury Theatre."

"Yes, sir."

Walter went out and returned in a moment with the ticket. He was an old
servant and occasionally exchanged ideas with his master. As he gave
Braybrooke the envelope containing the ticket, he said:

"A very remarkable play, sir. I think you will enjoy it."

"What! Have you seen it?"

"Yes, sir, _The Great Lover_. My wife would go. She liked the name, sir.
About a singer, sir, who kept on loving like a young man when the age
for it was really what one might call over, sir. But it seem