you alone for days. Why have you done this? Why are you here? What is it
that you are seeking for in life?"

"A little amusement only," he declared. "I cannot find it except amongst
my own kind."

"You have not the appearance of a pleasure seeker," she answered.

"Mine is a passive search," he said. "I have some years to live--and of
solitude, well, I have tasted at once the joys and the depths."

"You are not in love with me any longer, are you?" she asked.

"I am not bold enough to deny it," he answered, "but do not be afraid
that I shall embarrass you with a declaration. To tell you the truth, I
have not much feeling left of any sort."

"You mean to keep your own counsel, then?" she asked.

"It is so little to keep," he murmured, "and I have parted with so
much!"

She measured the emotion of his tone, the curious yet perfectly natural
indifference of his manner, and she shivered a little. Always she feared
what she could not understand.

"I had hoped," she said sadly, "that we might at least have been
friends."

He shook his head.

"I have no fancy," he declared, "for the cemeteries of affection. You
must remember that I am beginning life anew. I do not know myself yet,
or you! Let us drift into the knowledge of one another, and perhaps--"

"Well! Perhaps?"

"There may be no question of friendship!"

Lady Ruth went back to her guests, and with the effortless ease of long
training, she became once more the gracious and tactful hostess. But in
her heart, the fear had grown a little stronger, and a specter walked
by her side. Once during the evening, her husband looked at her
questioningly, and she breathed a few words to him. He laughed
reassuringly.

"Oh! Wingrave's all right, I believe," he said, "it's only his manner
that puts you off a bit. He's just the same with everyone! I don't think
he means anything by it!"

Lady Ruth shivered, but she said nothing. Just then Aynesworth came up,
and with a motion of her fan she called him to her.

"Please take me into the other room," she said "I want a glass of
champagne, and on the way you can tell me all about America."

"One is always making epigrams about America," he protested, smiling.
"Won't you spare me?"

"Tell me, then, how you progress with your great character study!"

"Ah!" he remarked quietly, "you come now to a more interesting subject."

"Yes?"

"Frankly, I do not progress at all."

"So far as you have gone?"

"If," he said, "I