pattered off hastily.

III

The "Jack," whose more distinguished patronymic was so gayly caracolling
down the road to posterity, had arrived, and after dressing hastily,
sought his mother. Her hair was done, her gown laced; she dismissed her
maid at once, and while her eyes melted, in the fashion of mothers, she
embraced her son with something more than maternal warmth: a curious
suggestion of relief, of stepping out of her own personality and leaving
it like a heap of clothes on the floor. This attitude had occasionally
puzzled her idol, but he was too masculine to analyze. She was his best
friend and a delightful person to have for a mother; her soul might be
her own possession undisturbed. He admired her almost as much as he did
himself, and to-night he kissed her fondly and told her gallantly that
she was looking even more beautiful than usual.

"It is all this white after the dead black," said Lady Victoria, smiling
appreciatively. "I am thankful that prolonged mourning is out of date;
it made a fright of me and was getting on my nerves." She wore no jewels
save a high diamond dog-collar and a few sparkling combs in her hair,
but she made a superb appearance with the long white sweep of shoulders
and bust, her brilliant eyes and smart tailed gown of black chiffon and
Irish lace. Her arms, no longer rounded as when artists had fought to
paint her, were but half-revealed under floating sleeves, and her fair
tapering hands were even younger than her face.

She opened a large black fan and moved it slowly while looking intently
at her son's bent profile. "Something has gone wrong," she said. "Have
you seen Julia Kaye again?"

"No, I was invited to Maundrell Abbey last week, but couldn't manage it,
of course. And I knew she was to be here. Nothing has gone wrong--but I
had rather a shock this morning. I met Zeal at the club. He looks like a
death's head. He vowed he was taking even better care of himself than
usual, but his chest is bad again. He talked about going to Davos--the
very word makes me sick! In the next breath he said he might go out to
Africa. Can't you hurry on his marriage?--persuade Carry that it is her
duty to go with him?"

"I should have no difficulty persuading Carry. The rub is with him.
Compulsory asceticism has bred misogyny, and misogyny scruples. He says
that he has sins enough to his account without laying up a reckoning
with posterity. If it were not for you I should agree with