sts must put up with it.

When she left him Dion hesitated. Mrs. Clarke had just seen him and sent
him a grave nod of recognition. Should he go to her? But the fair young
man was still at her side, was still, with his weak red mouth, talking
into her ear. Dion felt a strange distaste as he saw those moving lips
under the brushed-up, almost ridiculously small, golden mustache; and
just as he was conscious of this distaste Mrs. Clarke got rid of the
young man, and spoke to a woman. Then she moved forward slowly. Mr.
Chetwinde spoke to her, moving his ample fan-shaped beard, which always
looked Assyrian, though he was profoundly English and didn't know it.
She drew nearer to Dion as she answered Mr. Chetwinde, but in a wholly
unconscious manner. To-night she looked more haggard even than usual,
no doubt because of the journey from Paris. But Mrs. Chetwinde had once
said of her: "Cynthia is made of iron." Could that be true? She was
quite close to Dion now, and he was aware of a strange faint perfume
which reminded him of Stamboul; and he realized here in Lowndes Square
that Stamboul was genuinely fascinating, was much more fascinating than
he had realized when he was in it.

Mrs. Clarke passed him without looking at him, and he felt sure quite
unconscious of his nearness to her. Evidently she had forgotten all
about him. Just after she had gone by he decided that of course he ought
to go and speak to her, and that to-night he must introduce Rosamund
to her. Not to do so would really be rude. Daventry was not there to be
chivalrous. The illness of Beattie, and doubtless his own distress at
the loss of his unborn child, had kept him away. Dion thought that he
would be unchivalrous if he now neglected to make a point of speaking to
Mrs. Clarke and of introducing his wife to her.

Having made up his mind on this he turned to follow Mrs. Clarke, and at
once saw that Esme Darlington, that smoother of difficult social places,
was before him. A little way off he saw Mr. Darlington, with Rosamund
well but delicately in hand, making for Mrs. Clarke somewhat with
the gait of Agag. In a moment the thing was done. The two women were
speaking to each other, and Rosamund had sent to Mrs. Clarke one of her
inquiring looks. Then they sat down together on that red sofa to which
Mrs. Clarke had led Dion for his first conversation with her. Esme
Darlington remained standing before it. The full acquaintance was joined
at last.

Were they t