take you away
from her."

"My dear lady," he protested, "the slight friendship between Lady Ruth
and myself is not of the nature to engender such a fear."

She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her hands were toying with the
rope of pearls which hung from her neck. She bent over them, as though
examining the color of the stones.

"How long have you known Ruth?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her steadfastly. He could not be sure whether it was his
fancy, or whether indeed there was some hidden meaning in her question.

"Since I came to live in England," he answered.

"Ah!"

There was a moment's silence. Then with a little wave of her hands and a
brilliant smile, she figuratively dismissed the subject.

"We waste time," she remarked lightly, "and we may have callers at
any moment. I will ask you no more questions save those which the
conventions may permit you to answer truthfully. We can't depart from
our code, can we, even for the sake of an inquisitive woman?"

"I can assure you--" he began.

"But I will have no assurances," she interrupted smilingly. "I am going
to talk of other things. I am going to ask you a ridiculous question.
Are you fond of music?--seriously!"

"I believe so," he answered. "Why?"

"Because," she answered, "I sometimes wonder what there is in the world
that interests you! Certainly, none of the ordinary things seem to.
Tonight, almost for the first time, I saw you look a little drawn out
of yourself. I was wondering whether it was the music or the people. I
suppose, until one gets used to it," she added, looking a little wearily
around the house, "an audience like this is worth looking at."

"It certainly is not the people," he said. "Do you make as close a study
of all your acquaintances?"

"Naturally not," she answered, "and I do not class you amongst my
acquaintances at all. You interest me, my friend--very much indeed!"

"I am flattered," he murmured.

"You are not--I wish that you were," she answered simply. "I can
understand why you have succeeded where so many others have failed.
You are strong. You have nerves of steel--and very little heart. But
now--what are you going to do with your life, now that wealth must even
have lost its meaning to you? I should like to know that. Will you tell
me?"

"What is there to do?" he asked. "Eat and drink, and juggle a little
with the ball of fate."

"You are not ambitious?"

"Not in the least."

"Pleasure, for itself, doe