that she had not had a chance. The mere thought sent the
American a step down from her throne. She stood below him now, as he
stood below Viola. It seemed to him that there was less resemblance
between his wife and Miss Schley than he had fancied. He even said so to
Lady Holme. The angel smiled. Somebody else in her smiled too. Once he
remarked to the angel, _a propos de bottes_, "We men are awful brutes
sometimes." Then he paused. As she said nothing, only looked very kind,
he added, "I'll bet you think so, Vi?"

It sounded like a question, but she preferred to give no answer, and he
walked away shaking his head over the brutishness of men.

The believers in the angel naturally welcomed the development in Lady
Holme and the unbelievers laughed at it, especially those who had been
at Arkell House and those who had been influenced by Pimpernel Schley's
clever imitation. One night at the opera, when _Tannhauser_ was being
given, Mr. Bry said of it, "I seem to hear the voice of Venus raised in
the prayer of Elizabeth." Mrs. Wolfstein lifted large eyebrows over it,
and remarked to Henry, in exceptionally guttural German:

"If this goes on Pimpernel's imitation will soon be completely out of
date."

To be out of date--in Mrs. Wolfstein's opinion--was to be irremediably
damned. Lady Cardington, Sir Donald Ulford, and one or two others began
to feel as if their dream took form and stepped out of the mystic realm
towards the light of day. Sir Donald seemed specially moved by the
change. It was almost as if something within him blossomed, warmed by
the breath of spring.

Lady Holme wondered whether he knew of the fight between her husband and
his son. She dared not ask him and he only mentioned Leo once. Then
he said that Leo had gone down to his wife's country place in
Hertfordshire. Lady Holme could not tell by his intonation whether he
had guessed that there was a special reason for this departure. She was
glad Leo had gone. The developing angel did not want to meet the man who
had suffered from the siren's common conduct. Leo was not worth much.
She knew that. But she realised now the meanness of having used him
merely as a weapon against Fritz, and not only the meanness, but the
vulgarity of the action. There were moments in which she was fully
conscious that, despite her rank, she had not endured unsmirched close
contact with the rampant commonness of London.

One of the last great events of the season was to be a ch