thought you were never coming."

"People stayed so late. I can't think why. I'm sure it was dreadfully
dull and foolish. How odd Mr. Carey's looking! When I bowed to him just
now he didn't return it, but only stared at me as if I were a stranger."

Robin Pierce made no rejoinder. They descended the great staircase and
went towards the picture-gallery.

"Find a corner where we can really talk."

"Yes, yes."

He spoke eagerly.

"Here--this is perfect."

They sat down at a table for two that was placed in an angle of the
great room. Upon the walls above them looked down a Murillo and a
Velasquez. Lady Holme was under the Murillo, which represented three
Spanish street boys playing a game in the dust with pieces of money.

"A table for two," said Robin Pierce. "I have always said that the
Duchess understands the art of entertaining better than anyone in
London, except you--when you choose."

"To-night I really couldn't choose. Later on, I'm going to give two or
three concerts. Is anything the matter with Mr. Carey?"

"Do you think so?"

"Well, I hope it isn't true what people are saying."

"What are they saying?"

"That's he's not very judicious in one way."

A footman poured champagne into her glass. Robin Pierce touched the
glass.

"That way?"

"Yes. It would be too sad."

"Let us hope it isn't true, then."

"You know him well. Is it true?"

"Would you care if it was?"

He looked at her earnestly.

"Yes. I like Mr. Carey."

There was a rather unusual sound of sincerity in her voice.

"And what is it that you like in him?"

"Oh, I don't know. He talks shocking nonsense, of course, and is down on
people and things. And he's absurdly unsophisticated at moments, though
he knows the world so well. He's not like you--not a diplomat. But I
believe if he had a chance he might do something great."

Robin felt as if the hidden woman had suddenly begun to speak. Why did
she speak about Rupert Carey?

"Do you like a man to do something great?" he said.

"Oh, yes. All women do."

"But I perpetually hear you laughing at the big people--the Premiers,
the Chancellors, the Archbishops, the Generals of the world."

"Because I've always known them. And really they are so often quite
absurd and tiresome."

"And--Rupert Carey?"

"Oh, he's nothing at all, poor fellow! Still there's something in his
face that makes me think he could do an extraordinary thing if he had
the chance. I saw it there to-nigh