Hamilton, it was, after all, a mere expression of
opinion, such as we are any of us likely to venture upon any subject
whatever. It was neither more personal nor more extravagant than many of
M. Roux's remarks."

"But, Imogen, certainly M. Roux has the right. It is a part of his
art, and that is altogether another matter. Oh, this is not the only
instance!" continued Flavia passionately, "I've always had that narrow,
bigoted prejudice to contend with. It has always held me back. But
this--!"

"I think you mistake his attitude," replied Imogen, feeling a flush that
made her ears tingle. "That is, I fancy he is more appreciative than he
seems. A man can't be very demonstrative about those things--not if he
is a real man. I should not think you would care much about saving the
feelings of people who are too narrow to admit of any other point of
view than their own." She stopped, finding herself in the impossible
position of attempting to explain Hamilton to his wife; a task which,
if once begun, would necessitate an entire course of enlightenment which
she doubted Flavia's ability to receive, and which she could offer only
with very poor grace.

"That's just where it stings most"--here Flavia began pacing the
floor--"it is just because they have all shown such tolerance and have
treated Arthur with such unfailing consideration that I can find no
reasonable pretext for his rancor. How can he fail to see the value of
such friendships on the children's account, if for nothing else! What
an advantage for them to grow up among such associations! Even though he
cares nothing about these things himself he might realize that. Is there
nothing I could say by way of explanation? To them, I mean? If someone
were to explain to them how unfortunately limited he is in these
things--"

"I'm afraid I cannot advise you," said Imogen decidedly, "but that, at
least, seems to me impossible."

Flavia took her hand and glanced at her affectionately, nodding
nervously. "Of course, dear girl, I can't ask you to be quite frank with
me. Poor child, you are trembling and your hands are icy. Poor Arthur!
But you must not judge him by this altogether; think how much he misses
in life. What a cruel shock you've had. I'll send you some sherry, Good
night, my dear."

When Flavia shut the door Imogen burst into a fit of nervous weeping.

Next morning she awoke after a troubled and restless night. At eight
o'clock Miss Broadwood entered in a red a