the acquaintance of the unknown
man in some Bohemian cafe, where people talked to each other casually,
giving way to their natural impulses, drifting in and out as the whim
took them, careless of the _convenances_ or actively despising them. In
London, at any rate if one is English and cursed by being well
known, one lives in a strait waist-coat. Lady Sellingworth felt the
impossibility of speaking to a stranger without an introduction in spite
of her secret wildness.

And if he spoke to her?

She remembered Sir Seymour's instant judgment on him. It had made her
feel very angry at the time when it was delivered, but then she had not
held any mental debate about it. She had simply been secretly up in
arms against an attack on the man she was interested in. Now she thought
about it more seriously.

Although she had never been able to love Sir Seymour, she esteemed him
very highly and valued his friendship very much. She also respected
his intellect and his character. He was not a petty man, but an
honest, brave and far-seeing man of the world. Such a man's opinion was
certainly worth something. One could not put it aside as if it were the
opinion of a fool. And after a brief glance at the stranger Sir Seymour
had unhesitatingly pronounced him to be an outsider.

Was he an outsider?

As a rule Lady Sellingworth was swift in deciding what was the social
status of a man. She could "place" a man as quickly as any woman. But,
honestly, she could not make up her mind about the stranger. Although
he was so exceptionally good-looking, perhaps, he was not exactly
distinguished looking. But she had known dukes and Cabinet Ministers
who resembled farmers and butlers, young men of high rank who had the
appearance of grooms or bookies. It was difficult to be sure about
anyone without personal knowledge of him.

When she had first seen the young man in Bond Street it had certainly
not occurred to her that there was anything common or shady in his
appearance. And the Duchess of Wellingborough had not hinted that she
held such an opinion about him. And surely women are quicker about such
matters than men.

Lady Sellingworth decided that Seymour Portman was prejudiced. Old
courtiers are apt to be prejudiced. Always mixing with the most
distinguished men of their time, they acquire, perhaps too easily, a
habit of looking down upon ordinary but quite respectable people.

Here Lady Sellingworth suddenly smiled. The adjective "respe