hemselves known. Both were women who stood apart from the
great crowd. When their names were mentioned everyone--who counted--knew
who they were.

As to Jacques Sennier, he left a crevasse in the life at
Djenan-el-Maqui. It had been a dangerous experience for Charmian, the
associating in intimacy with the little famous man. Her secret ambitions
were irritated almost to the point of nervous exasperation. But she only
knew it now that he was gone.

Madame Sennier had frightened her.

"_Mais, ma chere, ce n'est pas serieux!_"

The words had been said with an air of hard and careless authority, as
if the speaker knew she was expressing the obvious truth, and a truth
known to both her hearers; and then the words which had followed: "One
has only to look at your interesting husband, to see him in the African
_milieu_, to see that!"

What had happened at Constantine? How had Claude been?

Charmian wanted so much to see him, to hear his account of the whole
matter, that she telegraphed:

"Come back as soon as you can they have gone very dull
here.--CHARMIAN."

She knew that in sending this telegram she was coming out of her role;
but her nerves drove her into the weakness.

Within a week Claude and Gillier returned.

Charmian noticed at once that their expedition had not drawn the two men
together, that their manner to each other was cold and constrained. On
the day of their return she persuaded Gillier to dine at the villa. He
seemed reluctant to accept, but she overcame his hesitation.

"I want to hear all about it," she said. "You must remember what a keen
interest I have in everything that has to do with the opera."

Gillier looked at her oddly, with a sort of furtive inquiry, she
thought. Then he said formally:

"I am delighted to stay, madame."

During dinner he became more expansive, but Claude seemed to Charmian to
become more constrained. Beneath his constraint excitement lay in
hiding. He looked tired; but his imaginative eyes shone as if they could
not help speaking, although his lips were often dumb. Only when he was
talking to Susan Fleet did he seem to be comparatively at ease.

The good Algerian wine went round, and Gillier's tongue was gradually
unloosed. Some of the crust of formality flaked off from him, and his
voice became a little louder. His manner, too, was more animated.
Nevertheless, Charmian noticed that from time to time he regarded her
with the oddly furtive look at which