eems to me so strange that she should find pleasure in such
company."

"Men who will not cut their hair. How is it?"

"I suppose attention to externals checks or limits the current of
feeling... or they think so."

"I am feeling enough, God knows, but my suffering does not prevent me
from selecting my waistcoat and tying my tie."

Harding's eyes implied acquiescence in the folding of the scarf (it
certainly was admirably done) and glanced along the sleeves of the
coat--a rough material chosen in a moment of sudden inspiration; and
they did not miss the embroidered waistcoat, nor the daring brown
trousers (in admirable keeping withal), turned up at the ends, of
course, otherwise Owen would not have felt dressed; and, still a
little conscious of the assistance his valet had been to him, he
walked with a long, swinging stride which he thought suited him,
stopping now and again to criticise a friend or a picture.

"There's Merrington. How absurdly he dresses! One would think he was
an actor; yet no man rides better to hounds. Lady Southwick! I must
have a word with her."

Before leaving Harding he mentioned that she attributed her lapses
from virtue, not to passionate temperament, but to charitable
impulses. "She wouldn't kiss--" and Owen whispered the man's name,
"until he promised to give two thousand pounds to a Home for Girl
Mothers."

"Now, my dear Lady Southwick, I'm so delighted to see you here. But
how very sad! The greatest singer of our time."

"She was exceedingly good in two or three parts."

A dispute arose, in which Owen lost his temper; but, recovering it
suddenly, he went down the room with Lady Southwick to show her a
Wedgewood dessert service which he had bought some years ago for
Evelyn, pressing it upon her, urging that he would like her to have
it.

"Every time you see it you will think of us," and he turned on his
heel suddenly, fearing to lose Harding, whom he found shaking hands
with one of the dealers, a man of huge girth--"like a waggoner,"
Owen said, checking a reproof, but he could not help wishing that
Harding would not shake hands with such people, at all events when
he was with him.

"These are the Chadwells, whom--" (Harding whispered a celebrated
name) "used to call the most gentlemanly picture-dealers in
Bond-street." Harding spoke to them, Owen standing apart absorbed in
His grief, until the word "Asher" caught his ear.

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of you, of Sir Owen