though rallying herself against a
disinclination for further speech. "All captivating women aren't made
on that pattern, unfortunately, you know, Sir Richard. A good many of
them it's wisest not to trust anything like down to the ground, or
longer than--well--the day before yesterday."

And without waiting for any reply to this cryptic utterance, she
stepped swiftly round behind the carriage again, waved her hand from
the door-step and then swung away, with lazy, long-limbed grace, past
the waiting men-servants and through to the ruddy brightness of the
hall.

Madame de Vallorbes settled herself back rather languidly in her place.
She was pricked by a sharp point of curiosity, regarding the tenor of
Miss St. Quentin's mysterious colloquy with Richard Calmady. She had
been able to catch but a word here and there, and these had been
provokingly suggestive. Had the well-beloved Honoria, in a moment of
overscrupulous conscientiousness permitted herself to hoist danger
signals? She wanted to know, for it was her business to haul such down
again with all possible despatch. She intended the barometer to
register set fair whatever the weather actually impending. Yet to
institute direct inquiries might be to invite suspicion. Helen,
therefore, declined upon diplomacy, upon the inverted sweetnesses
calculated nicely to mask an intention quite other than sweet. She
really held her friend in very warm affection. But Madame de Vallorbes
never confused secondary and primary issues. When you have a really big
deal on hand--and of the bigness of her present deal the last quarter
of an hour had brought her notably increased assurance--even the
dearest friend must stand clear and get very decidedly out of the way.
So, while the muffled thud of the horses' hoofs echoed up from the hard
gravel of the carriage drive through the thick atmosphere, and the bare
limbs of the trees clawed, as with lean arms clothed in tattered
draperies, at the passing carriage and its occupants, she contented
herself by observing:--

"I am grateful to you for driving me over, Richard. Honoria is very
perfect in her own way. It always does me good to see her. She's quite
unlike anybody else, isn't she?"

But Richard's eyes were fixed upon the blank wall of fog just ahead,
which, though always stable, always receded before the advancing
carriage. The effect of it was unpleasant somehow, holding, as it did
to his mind, suggestions of other things still more