t the low notes in her voice. I resent the
cajolery of the supple twists of her body. I resent her putting her
hands on my shoulders, and, as the twopenny-halfpenny poets say, fanning
my cheek with her breath. If it had not been for that I should never
have promised to go in search of her impossible husband. At any rate, it
is easy to discover his whereabouts. A French bookseller has telegraphed
to Paris for the _Annuaire Officiel de l'Armee Francaise_, the French
Army List. It locates every officer in the French army, and as the
Chasseurs d'Afrique generally chase in Africa, it will tell me the
station in Algeria or Tunisia which Captain Vauvenarde adorns. I can
go straight to him as Madame Brandt's plenipotentiary, and if the
unreasonable and fire-eating warrior does not run me through the body
for impertinence before he has time to appreciate the delicacy of my
mission, I may be able to convince him that a well-to-do wife is worth
the respectable consideration of a hard-up captain of Chasseurs. I say
I may be able to convince him; but I shrink from the impudence of the
encounter. I am to accost a total stranger in a foreign army and tell
him to return to his wife. This is the pretty little mission I have
undertaken. It sounded glorious and eumoirous and quixotic and deucedly
funny, during the noble moment of inspiration, when Lola's golden eyes
were upon me; but now--well, I shall have to persuade myself that it is
funny, if I am to carry it out. It is very much like wagering that one
will tweak by the nose the first gentleman in gaiters and shovel-hat
one meets in Piccadilly. This by some is considered the quintessence of
comedy. I foresee a revision of my sense of humour.

This afternoon I met Lady Kynnersley again--at the Ellertons'. I was
talking to Maisie, who has grown no happier, when I saw her sailing
across to me with questions hoisted in her eyes. Being particularly
desirous not to report progress periodically to Lady Kynnersley, I made
a desperate move. I went forward and greeted her.

"Lady Kynnersley," said I, "somebody was telling me that you are in
urgent need of funds for something. With my usual wooden-headedness I
have forgotten what it is--but I know it is a deserving organisation."

The philanthropist, as I hoped, ousted the mother. She exclaimed at
once:

"It must have been the Cabmen and Omnibus Drivers' Rheumatic Hospital."

"That was it!" said I, hearing of the institution for the first ti