e?"

"Her ladyship has gone out of town, sir."

"When will she be back?"

"I couldn't say, sir. Her ladyship has gone abroad."

Craven stood for a moment without speaking. He was amazed, and felt as
if he had received a blow. Finally, he said:

"Do you think she will be long away?"

"Her ladyship has gone for some time, sir, I believe."

The young man's face, firm, with rosy cheeks and shallow, blue eyes, was
strangely inexpressive. Craven hesitated, then said:

"Do you know where her ladyship has gone? I--I wish to write a note to
her."

"I believe it's some place near Monte Carlo, sir. Her ladyship gave
orders that no letters were to be forwarded for the present."

"Thank you."

Craven turned away and walked slowly towards Mayfair. He felt startled
and hurt, even angry. So this was friendship! And he had been foolish
enough to think that Lady Sellingworth was beginning to value his
company, that she was a lonely woman, and that perhaps his visits, his
sympathy, meant something, even a great deal to her. What a young fool
he had been! And what a humbug she must be! Suddenly London seemed
empty. He remembered the coldness in the wording of the note she had
sent him saying that she could not see him the day after the theatre
party. She had put forward no excuse, no explanation. What had happened?
He felt that something must have happened which had changed her feeling
towards him. For though he told himself that she must be a humbug, he
did not really feel that she was one. Perhaps she was angry with him,
and that was why she had not chosen to tell him that she was going
abroad before she started. But what reason had he given her for anger?
Mentally he reviewed the events of their last evening together. It had
been quite a gay evening. Nothing disagreeable had happened unless--Lady
Wrackley and Mrs. Ackroyde came to his mind. He saw them before him with
their observant, experienced eyes, their smiling, satirical lips. They
had made him secretly uncomfortable. He had felt undressed when he was
with them, and had realized that they knew of and were probably
amused by his friendship for Lady Sellingworth. And he had hated their
knowledge. Perhaps she had hated it too, although she had not shown a
trace of discomfort. Or, perhaps, she had disliked his manner with Miss
Van Tuyn, assumed to hide his own sensitiveness. And at that moment he
thought of his intercourse with Miss Van Tuyn with exaggeration. It
was pos