ists say that perfect love breeds perfect trust. If that
is so, how can great lovers be jealous? For jealousy, I suppose--I have
never felt it myself in that way--is born out of doubt, but can never
exist side by side with complete confidence."

"Ah! But Beryl, in how many people in the course of a lifetime can one
have _complete confidence_ I have scarcely met one. What do you say?"

She turned her head towards Braybrooke. He looked suddenly rather
plaintive, like a man who realizes unexpectedly how lonely he is.

"Oh, I hope I know a few such people," he rejoined rather anxiously.
"I have been very lucky in my friends. And I like to think the best of
people."

"That is kind," said Lady Sellingworth. "But I prefer to know the truth
of people. And I must say I think most of us are quicksands. The worst
of it is that so often when we do for a moment feel we are on firm
ground we find it either too hard for our feet or too flat for our
liking."

At that moment she thought of Sir Seymour Portman.

"You think it is doubt which breeds fascination?" said Craven.

"Alas for us if it is so," she answered, smiling.

"The human race is a very unsatisfactory race," said Miss Van Tuyn. "I
am only twenty-four and have found that out already. It is very clever
of the French to cultivate irony as they do. The ironist always wears
clothes and an undershirt of mail. But the sentimentalist goes naked in
the east wind which blows through society. Not only is he bound to take
cold, but he is liable to be pierced by every arrow that flies."

"Yes, it is wise to cultivate irony," said Lady Sellingworth.

"You have," said Miss Van Tuyn. "One often sees it in your eyes. Isn't
it true?"

She turned to Craven; but he did not choose to agree with her.

"I'm a sentimentalist," he said firmly. "And I never look about for
irony. Perhaps that's why I have not found it in Lady Sellingworth."

Miss Van Tuyn sent him a glance which said plainly, but prettily, "You
humbug!" But he did not mind. Once he had discussed Lady Sellingworth
with Miss Van Tuyn. They had wondered about her together. They had even
talked about her mystery. But that seemed to Craven a long time ago. Now
he would far rather discuss Miss Van Tuyn with Lady Sellingworth than
discuss Lady Sellingworth with Miss Van Tuyn. So he would not even
acknowledge that he had noticed the mocking look in Lady Sellingworth's
eyes. Already he had the feeling of a friend who does not ca