I don't care ...
only Lord help the actors to-night!"

"I suppose Lady Cecily got tired of you, Gilbert," Henry said
deliberately. He felt angry with him and tried to hurt him. The beauty
of Lady Cecily had filled him with longing to meet and know her, and he
had a strange sense of jealousy when he thought of Gilbert's friendship
with her.

"No," Gilbert answered, "I don't think she got tired of me. I think she
still cares for me as much as ever she did!..."

"Damned conceit!" Henry exclaimed, laughing to cover the jealousy that
was in him.

"Oh, no, Quinny, not really. You'll understand that soon, I expect!" He
pushed his tea-cup away from him, and sat back in his chair. "I suppose
it is caddish to talk of her like this," he went on. "One ought to bear
one's wounds in silence and feel no resentment at all ... but somehow
she draws out the caddish part of me. There are women like that, Quinny.
There's a nasty, low, mean streak in every man, I don't care who he is,
and some women seem to find it very easily. Here, let's get out of this.
You pay. I've had a sugary bun and a couple of meringues...."

5

Later in the evening they went to the theatre together. As they walked
up the steps into the entrance hall, Henry saw Lady Cecily standing in a
small group of men and women who were talking and laughing very
heartily.

"There she is!" he whispered to Gilbert.

"Who is?"

"Lady Cecily!"

"Oh, so she is. Let's find our seats!"

"Perhaps you could catch her eye, Gilbert...."

"Catch my grandmother!" said Gilbert. "Come on!"

But if Gilbert were not willing to catch Lady Cecily's eye, Lady Cecily
was very willing to catch his. She saw him walking towards the stalls,
and she left her group of friends and went over to him and touched his
arm. "Hilloa, Gilbert!" she said, holding her hand out to him. "I
thought I should see you here to-night!"

She spoke in louder tones than most women speak, and her voice sounded
as if it were full of laughter. There was something in her attitude
which stirred Henry, something which vaguely reminded him of a proud
animal, stretching its limbs after sleep. Her thick, golden hair,
cunningly bound about her head, glistened in the softened light, and he
could almost see golden, downy gleams on her cheeks. She held her skirts
about her, as she stood in front of Gilbert, and Henry could see her
curving breasts rising and falling very gently beneath her silken dress.
The odour of s