rsistently sought her out, had shown a sort of almost obstinate
desire to be in her company. Remembering what had happened when Lady
Sellingworth was still in Berkeley Square, Miss Van Tuyn had been on
her guard. Craven had hurt her vanity once. She did not quite understand
him. She suspected him of peculiarity. She even wondered whether he had
had a quarrel with Adela which had been concealed from her, and which
might account for Adela's departure and for Craven's present assiduity.
Possibly, but for one reason, her injured vanity would have kept Craven
at a distance--at any rate, for a time. It would have been pleasant to
deal out suitable punishment to one who certainly deserved it. But there
was the reason for the taking of the other course--Arabian.

An obscure instinct drove her into intimacy with Craven because of
Arabian. She was not sure that she wanted Craven just now, but she might
want him, perhaps very much, later. She knew he was not really in love
with her, but they were beginning to get on well together. He
admired her; she held out a hand to his youth. There was something of
comradeship in their association. And their minds understood each other
rather well, she thought. For they were both genuinely interested in the
arts, though neither of them was an artist. And she felt very safe
with Alick Craven. So she forgave Craven for his behaviour with Adela
Sellingworth. She let him off his punishment. She relied upon him as
her friend. And she needed to rely upon someone. For the calm
self-possession of her nature was beginning to be seriously affected.
She was losing some of her hitherto immense self-assurance. Her faith in
the coolness and dominating strength of her own temperament was shaken.

Arabian troubled her increasingly.

That night at the restaurant in Conduit Street she had felt that she
hated him, and when she had left Garstin she had realized something,
that the measure of her nervous hatred was the measure of something
else. Why should she mind what Arabian did? What was his way of life
to her? Other men could do what they chose and her well-poised,
well-disciplined brain retained its normal calm. So long as they gave
her the admiration which her vanity needed, she was not persecuted by
any undue anxieties about the secret conduct of their lives. But she
was tormented by the memory of that girl in the restaurant. And she
remembered the conversation about jealousy round the dinner table at the