a moment. Those evening meals must have been
awful. I can imagine the dignity, the solemn heavy room with all the
silver, the ceremonious old man-servant and Wilderling himself behaving
as though nothing at all were the matter. To do him all justice he was
as brave as a lion, and as proud as a gladiator, and as conceited as a
Prussian. On the Wednesday evening he did not return home. He telephoned
that he was kept on important business.

The Baroness and Lawrence had the long slow meal together. It was almost
more than Jerry could stand having, of course, his own private tortures
to face. "It was as though the old lady felt that she had been deputed
to support the honour of the family during her husband's absence. She
must have been wild with anxiety, but she showed no sign except that her
hand trembled when she raised her glass."

"What did you talk about?" I asked him.

"Oh, about anything! Theatres and her home, when she was a girl and
England.... Awful, every minute of it!"

There was a moment towards the end of the meal, when the good lady
nearly broke down. The bell in the hall rang and there was a step; she
thought it was her husband and half rose. It was, however, the Dvornik
with a message of no importance. She gave a little sigh. "Oh, I do wish
he would come!... I do wish he would come!" she murmured to herself.

"Oh, he'll come," Lawrence reassured her, but she seemed indignant with
him for having overheard her. Afterwards, sitting together desolately in
the magnificent drawing-room, she became affectionately maternal. I have
always wondered why Lawrence confided to me the details of their very
intimate conversation. It was exactly the kind of thing he was most
reticent about.

She asked him about his home, his people, his ambitions. She had asked
him about these things before, but to-night there was an appeal in her
questions, as though she said:

"Take my mind off that other thing. Help me to forget, if it's only for
a moment."

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked.

"Yes. Once," he said.

"Was he in love now?"

"Yes."

"With some one in Russia?"

"Yes."

She hoped that he would be happy. He told her that he didn't think
happiness was quite the point in this particular case. There were other
things more important--and, anyway, it was inevitable.

"He had fallen in love at first sight?"

"Yes. The very first moment."

She sighed. So had she. It was, she thought, the only real way. S