rth was busy, greeting and
being greeted. Once more she made part of the regiment. But the ranks
were broken. There was no review order here. Only for an instant had she
been aware of formality, of the "eyes right" atmosphere--when she had
entered the room. Then the old voices hummed about her. And she saw the
well-known and experienced eyes examining her. And she had to listen and
to answer, to be charming, to "hold her own."

"I'm putting Alick Craven next to you at lunch, Adela. I know you and he
are pals. He's over there with Lily Bright."

"And who is Lily Bright?" said Lady Sellingworth in her most offhand
way.

"A dear little New Englander, Knickerbocker to the bone."

She turned away composedly to meet another guest.

Francis Braybrooke began to talk to Lady Sellingworth, and almost
immediately Lady Wrackley and Mrs. Birchington joined them.

"How marvellous you look, Adela!" said Lady Wrackley, staring with her
birdlike eyes. "You will cut us all out. I must go to Geneva. Have
you heard about Beryl? But of course you have. She was so delighted
at coming into a fortune that she rushed away to Rose Tree Gardens to
celebrate the event with a man without even waiting till she had got her
mourning. Didn't she, Minnie?"

Francis Braybrooke was looking shocked.

"I cannot believe that Miss Van Tuyn--" he began.

But Mrs. Birchington interrupted him.

"But I was there!" she said.

"I beg your pardon!" said Braybrooke.

"It was the very day the death of her father was in the evening papers.
I came back from the club with the paper in my hand, and met Beryl Van
Tuyn getting out of the lift in Rose Tree Gardens with the man who lives
opposite to me. She absolutely looked embarrassed."

"Impossible!" said Lady Wrackley. "She couldn't!"

"I assure you she did! But she introduced me to him."

"She cannot have heard of her father's death," said Braybrooke.

"But she had! For I expressed my sympathy and she thanked me."

Braybrooke looked very ill at ease and glanced plaintively towards the
place where Craven was sitting with the pretty American.

"No doubt she had been to visit old friends," he said, "American
friends."

"But this man, Nicolas Arabian, lives alone in his flat. And I'm sure
he's not an American. Lady Archie has seen him several times with
Beryl."

"What's he like?" asked Lady Wrackley.

"Marvellously handsome! A _charmeur_ if ever there was one. Beryl
certainly had good taste, but--"