ke him into a Great Emotion. He had looked for her at
all times and places, though without any troublesome optimism or
personal energy, and had almost come to believe that she was to him
what the end of the rainbow is to the idealist. In marrying Alice he
had followed the path of least resistance. She was young, pretty and
charming, and had been very much in love with him. Also it pleased his
mother, and she had been worth pleasing. He gave his wife all that she
could possibly need, except very much of himself. She was a perfectly
dear little soul.

Joan only kept him waiting about fifteen minutes. With perfect patience
he stood in front of an Italian mirror in the drawing-room, smoking a
cigarette through a long tortoise-shell holder. He regarded himself
with keen and friendly interest, not in the least surprised that his
wife's little friend from the country so evidently liked him. He found
that he looked up to his best form, murmured a word of praise for the
manner in which his evening coat was cut and smiled once or twice in
order to have the satisfaction of getting a glimpse of his peculiarly
good teeth. Then he laughed, called himself a conceited ass and went
over to examine a rather virile sketch of a muscular, deep-chested
young man in rowing costume which occupied an inconspicuous place among
many well-chosen pictures. He recognized Martin, whom he had seen
several times following the hounds, and tried to remember if Alice had
told him whether Joan had run away with this strenuous young fellow or
been run away with by him. There was much difference between the two
methods.

He heard nothing, but caught the scent of Peau d'Espagne. It carried
his mind back to a charming little suite in the Hotel de Crillon in
Paris. He turned and found Joan standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Did you ever row?" she asked.

"No," he said, "never. Too much fag. I played squash and roulette. You
look like a newly risen moon in her first quarter. Where would you like
to go?"

"I don't know," said Joan. "Let's break away from the conventional
places. I rather want to see queer people and taste different food. But
don't let's discuss it. I leave it to you." She went downstairs. She
might have been living in that house for years.

He followed, admiring the way her small, patrician head was set on her
shoulders, and the rich brown note of her hair. Extraordinary little
person, this! He told his chauffeur to drive to the Brev