e and see it all, if the afternoon is
fine and not too hot?"

And Honoria agreed. Nor did she shrink when Richard slipping out of his
chair picked up his crutches.--"I suppose it is about time to get ready
for the Grimshott function," he said.--She walked beside him to the
door, opened it and passed into the neutral-tinted, tapestry-hung
dining-room. There the young man waited a moment. He looked not at her
but straight before him.

"Honoria," he said suddenly, almost harshly, "you and Helen de
Vallorbes used to be great friends. For more than a year I have held no
communication with her, except through my lawyers. Can you tell me
anything about her?"

Miss St. Quentin hesitated.

"Nothing very direct--I heard from de Vallorbes about three months ago.
I don't think I am faithless--indeed I held on to her as long as I
could, Richard! I am not squeamish, and then I always prefer to stand
by the woman. But whatever de Vallorbes may have been, he pulled
himself together rather admirably from the time he went into the army.
He wanted to keep straight and to live respectably. And--I hate to say
so--but she treated him a little too flagrantly. And then--and
then----"

Honoria put her hands over her eyes and shook back her head angrily.

"It wasn't one man, Richard."

Dickie went white to the lips.

"I know that," he said.

He moved forward a few steps.

"Who is it now? Destournelle?"

"Oh no--no"--Honoria said. "Some Russian--from the extreme east--Kazan,
I think--prince, millionaire, drunken savage. But he adores her. He
squanders money upon her, surrounds her with barbaric state. This is de
Vallorbes' version of the affair. The scandal is open and notorious.
But she and her prince together have great power. Something will
eventually be arranged in the way of a marriage. She will not come
back."

CHAPTER IX

TELLING HOW LUDOVIC QUAYLE AND HONORIA ST. QUENTIN WATCHED THE TROUT
RISE IN THE LONG WATER

Some hour and a half later Miss St. Quentin passed down the flight of
stone steps, leading from the southern end of the terrace to the grass
slopes of the park. Arrived at the lowest step she gathered the skirt
of her dress up over one arm, thereby securing greater freedom of
movement, and displaying a straight length of pink and white petticoat.
Thus prepared she fared forth over the still smoking turf. The storm
had passed, but the atmosphere remained thick and humid. A certain
opulence of colour obt