surprised if she were never to marry at all."

"Don't you think she would fall in love?"

"Yes. For I think every living woman is capable of that. But she has the
sort of intellect which would not be tricked for very long by the heart.
Any weakness of hers would soon be over, I fancy."

"I dare say you are right. In fact I believe you are generally right.
She told me you were a book of wisdom. And I feel that it is true."

"Here is Berkeley Square."

"How wrong it is of these chauffeurs to drive so fast! It is almost as
bad as in Paris. They defy the law. I should like to have this man up."

He got out. She followed him, looking immensely tall in the dimness.

"I am not going back to the Cafe Royal," he said.

"But it will be amusing. And I think they are certainly expecting you."

"I am not going there."

She rang. Instantly the door was opened by the handsome middle-aged
butler.

"Then come in for a little while," she said casually. "Murgatroyd, you
might bring us up some tea and lemon, or will you have whisky and soda,
Mr. Craven?"

"I would much rather have tea and lemon, please," he said.

A great fire was burning in the hall. Again Craven felt that he was in
a more elegant London than the London of modern days. As he went up
the wide, calm staircase, and tasted the big silence of the house, he
thought of the packed crowd in the Cafe Royal, of the uproar there, of
the smoke wreaths, of the staring heterogeneous faces, of the shouting
or sullenly folded lips, of the--perhaps--tipsy man of genius, of
Jennings with his green eyes, his black beard, his tall ebony staff, of
the "little bloodthirsty thing" with the round Russian face, of Miss Van
Tuyn in the midst of it all, sitting by the side of Enid Blunt, smoking
cigarettes, and searching the men's faces for the looks which were food
for her craving. And he loved the contrast which was given to him.

"Do go in and sit by the fire, and I'll come in a moment," said the
husky voice he was learning to love. "I'm just going to take off my
hat."

Craven opened the great mahogany door and went in.

The big room was very dimly lighted by two standard electric lamps, one
near the fireplace, the other in a distant corner where a grand piano
stood behind a huge china bowl in which a pink azalea was blooming.
There was a low armchair near the fire by a sofa. He sat down in it,
and picked up a book which lay on a table close beside it. What did she
read--this b