go?" he answered in a low voice.

This time she went.

CHAPTER XXVI

VERA'S ADVENTURE

Mrs. Ogilvie stopped at Hatchards' and fluttered in her usual vague way
to the bookshop.

"I want some serious books," she said. "Something about Life or
Philosophy or anything of that kind."

The young man said he understood exactly what she meant, and produced a
new book by Hichens.

"But that's a novel! I want a real philosophical work."

"_Maxims of Love_, by Stendhal," suggested the young man.

"What a pretty book! No--I mean something _really_ dull. Have you
anything by Schopenhauer? or Dr. Reich?"

The young man said that he thought anything of that kind could be got,
and meanwhile suggested Benson.

"No, that's too frivolous," said Vera seriously. She then bought
casually _Mr. Punch on the Continong_, and left orders for books by
Plato, Herbert Spencer, and various other thoughtful writers, to be sent
to her without loss of time.

She then drove to the dressmaker's. Whenever she had fallen freshly in
love she got new dresses and new books. To-day she ordered a rather ugly
but very expensive new evening dress, rather weakly, at the last moment,
buying a tea-gown that she did not want.

Then she began to think she wanted to see Felicity, and yet she liked to
feel she had a sort of secret to herself for a little while. It really
had been a declaration, and Felicity had a way of inquiring into these
things and examining them until they were entirely analysed away.

No, she thought she would like to see him again before saying anything
about it. He was a serious man. She had met him at a musical German
lunch, where she had not expected to be amused. He looked as if he had
suffered--or, perhaps, sat up too late.... He had dark blue eyes, which
she chose to call violet. He talked, beautifully about philosophy. He
made her feel she had a Soul--which was just the sort of thing she
needed; and though he was at a musical German lunch, he was neither
musical nor German, and his satisfaction in sitting next to her instead
of next a celebrated German singer who was present was both obvious and
complimentary. Yet what had he really said?

He had said, "My dear Mrs. Ogilvie, human nature is human nature all the
world over, and there's no getting away from it, try how you will. Oh!
don't get me on my hobby, because I'm afraid I shall bore you, but I'm a
bit of a philosopher in my way."

How clever! But what did he