remained for each other interlocutor as fresh as the clown bounding
into the ring. She cracked, for my benefit, as many jokes and turned as
many somersaults as might have been expected; after which I thought it
fair to let her off. We all faced again to the house, for dressing and
dinner were in sight.

I found myself once more, as we moved, with Mrs. Server, and I remember
rejoicing that, sympathetic as she showed herself, she didn't think it
necessary to be, like Lady John, always "ready." She was delightfully
handsome--handsomer than ever; slim, fair, fine, with charming pale eyes
and splendid auburn hair. I said to myself that I hadn't done her
justice; she hadn't organised her forces, was a little helpless and
vague, but there was ease for the weary in her happy nature and her
peculiar grace. These last were articles on which, five minutes later,
before the house, where we still had a margin, I was moved to challenge
Ford Obert.

"What was the matter just now--when, though you were so fortunately
occupied, you yet seemed to call me to the rescue?"

"Oh," he laughed, "I was only occupied in being frightened!"

"But at what?"

"Well, at a sort of sense that she wanted to make love to me."

I reflected. "Mrs. Server? Does Mrs. Server make love?"

"It seemed to me," my friend replied, "that she began on it to _you_ as
soon as she got hold of you. Weren't you aware?"

I debated afresh; I didn't know that I had been. "Not to the point of
terror. She's so gentle and so appealing. Even if she took one in hand
with violence, moreover," I added, "I don't see why terror--given so
charming a person--should be the result. It's flattering."

"Ah, you're brave," said Obert.

"I didn't know you were ever timid. How can you be, in your profession?
Doesn't it come back to me, for that matter, that--only the other
year--you painted her?"

"Yes, I faced her to that extent. But she's different now."

I scarcely made it out. "In what way different? She's as charming as
ever."

As if even for his own satisfaction my friend seemed to think a little.
"Well, her affections were not then, I imagine, at her disposal. I judge
that that's what it must have been. They were fixed--with intensity; and
it made the difference with _me_. Her imagination had, for the time,
rested its wing. At present it's ready for flight--it seeks a fresh
perch. It's trying. Take care."

"Oh, I don't flatter myself," I laughed, "that I've only to ho