their
heavy scent was rather dangerous. Mrs. Bouncing told Winn what everybody
in the hotel had suggested, and appeared to expect him to combine and
carry out all their suggestions, with several other contradictory ones
of her own.

During this crisis Maurice Rivers markedly avoided Mrs. Bouncing. He
felt as if she might have prevented Mr. Bouncing's death just then. It
was a failure of tact. He didn't like the idea of death, and he had
always rather counted oh the presence of Mr. Bouncing. He was afraid he
might, with Mr. Bouncing removed, have gone a little too far.

He explained his position to Winn, whom he met on one of his many
errands.

"One doesn't want to let oneself in for anything, you know," he
asserted. "I'm sure, as a man of the world, you'd advise me to keep out
of it, wouldn't you? It's different for you, of course; you were poor
Bouncing's friend."

Winn, whose temper was extremely ruffled, gave him a formidable glance.

"You get into things a bit too soon, my boy," he replied coldly, "and
get out of 'em a bit too late."

"Oh, come, you know," said Maurice, jauntily, "I'm not responsible for
poor old Bouncing's death, am I?"

"I don't say you are," Winn continued, without looking any pleasanter.
"Bouncing had to die, and a jolly good thing for him it was when it came
off; his life wasn't worth a row of pins. But I wasn't talking about
him; I was talking about her. If you really want my advice, I'll tell
you plainly that if you want to go the pace, choose women one doesn't
marry, don't monkey about with the more or less respectable ones who
have a right to expect you to play the game. It's not done, and it's
beastly unfair. D' you see my point?"

Maurice wondered if he should be thoroughly angry or not. Suddenly it
occurred to him that Winn was waiting, and that he had better see his
point and not be thoroughly angry.

"Yes, I dare say I did go a little far," he admitted, throwing out a
manly chest; "but between you and me, Staines, should you say our friend
Mrs. B. _was_ respectable or not?"

"She isn't my friend," said Winn, grimly; "but as she ought to be yours,
I'll trouble you to keep your questions to yourself."

The idea of being angry having apparently been taken out of Maurice's
hands, he made haste to disappear into the hotel.

Winn walked on into the village. It was the last time he intended to go
there. There was nothing peculiarly touching about the flat, long road,
with the